


The Rest Is Still Unwritten

by agentsimmons



Category: Avengers: Earth's Mightiest Heroes, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, How Do I Tag, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Snippets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2019-07-29 07:15:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 49,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16259300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentsimmons/pseuds/agentsimmons
Summary: Literally.This is a collection of snippets, half-written, disjointed, unfinished stuff mostly because I wanted to shelve my bunnies somewhere outside of just my hard drive.





	1. Beautiful Beasts

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally going to be done on Tumblr, but 1. formatting fic on Tumblr is a hassle imo and 2. I don't really go onto Tumblr very much. So it made a little more sense to do it here. As much sense as it can make to post a bunch of plot vomits that went nowhere I guess. But I've seen others use AO3/similar to index some of their unfinished stuff for posterity so I decided to follow suit. 
> 
> Some will be extremely short snippets - like a intro chapter or random bit from the middle of an idea that I wrote. Some will be decidedly longer and disjointed (like a full chapter here, then snippets from later in the story, and such). 
> 
> All of it is Science Bro/BFs centric of course (and a few will be in verses outside of the MCU specifically - mostly Earth's Mightiest Heroes), but there are other couples involved in some of them, and in some cases those pairings have a little more in the excerpts that I had already written, so those will be listed at the beginning of every chapter. Additionally, I've left out a rating/warning but will try to give any necessary ones prior to each chapter as well. 
> 
> I don't expect anyone to really pay attention to this, but just in case if there are any ideas here that you would like to adopt and/or see finished, feel free to let me know. I can't make any guarantees but I'm always willing to discuss the possibility!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated G - The prologue for a very unnecessary steampunk Beauty and the Beast AU, with the twist that Hulk isn't the Beast.

"I curse you, Anthony Edward Stark!"

There is a blinding light and the lowly woman is transformed before Tony's eyes, revealing herself as a beautiful young woman in red attire with a matching crown upon her head. Tony gasps and falters back at the sight. This can be none other than the Scarlet Witch of myth and fable.

"I'm sorry," he pleads. "I didn't know."

"It is too late to repent," she says, hands outstretched and glowing red with her powerful magic. "If you wish to be cold and heartless like a machine then a machine you will be," she shouts.

Tony lets out a cry when his chest is pierced with several shards of metal near his heart. 

His skin begins to prickle and sting. He looks down at his arms as they slowly begin to transform into metal that melds to his skin, swallowing him until he no longer feels the cold of the night against his skin.

The metal, gold and red in color, continues to slowly engulf his entire being as he screams, begging for her to give him another chance. It is of no use. His screams become muffled and hollow when a helmet with faceplate covers his head, completing the suit of iron that is to be his prison. Tony's vision is reduced to two small slits, like a window to the world he can no longer be part of and he begs for her to just kill him instead.

The Scarlet Witch aims her hands directly his chest and he rises into the air. At first he thinks maybe she's had mercy and means to grant his plea for death, but it's merely more sorcery at work. Beams of blue light radiate all around him and from his chest. When he's lowered back to the ground he looks down to see a circle of iridescent light, a soft shade of blue, in the middle of his iron chest piece.

"There is proof of your heart, Master Stark," the witch says. "That light will keep the shards from killing you before you have a chance to truly see the error of your ways. But be warned, Master Stark, for my curse is this: Unless you learn to love another and have their love in return before the light goes out on the last day of the tenth year of this curse then you will become a machine permanently, left to spend long years without purpose until you are at last turned to rust."

Tony swallows hard, the feeling strange and foreign now. "And if I do?"

She gives a contemplative look, but finally answers, "Then the curse shall be broken and your humanity restored. But it will not be so easy," she says and then takes several steps back, hands glowing red again. "This love will have to come from a stranger for you will also bear the burden of seeing those who you have taken for granted forced to live as the metal and gears and machines and gadgets you have valued more than them. Their humanity will be tied to yours."

"No, don't," Tony tries, fearing the fate of his friends who didn't ask for this, don't deserve this because of what he's done. But a red light passes over the castle and then with a final flash of light the witch is gone.

Tony stumbles back awkwardly with his new, mechanized limbs. In the distance he hears the panicked wails of those inside who have been loyal to him in spite of his failure as a Lord. He shakes his head and stumbles to his knees.

Agonizing realization grips him. He and everyone inside is doomed. Maybe someone would be able to love a machine.

But who could ever learn to love a monster?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The suit is inspired by the classic suit from the comics (as well as the Mach 1 in the first movie) where there isn't a HUD, just eye slits.
> 
> As far as the others in the castle, Idk how that would have really turned out, but I wast at least imagining Rhodey as War Machine and Pepper as Rescue. I considered integrating JARVIS somehow as having been an actual butler and then becoming some sort of steampunk computer or something that takes the place of the enchanted mirror. Etc.


	2. Untitled Sherlockesque Detective AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated G/T. This was going to be an Edwardian detective AU with Tony as the detective a la Holmes and Bruce as his roped-in companion a la Dr. Watson as well as the narrator of the story. Also would have featured Clint/Coulson and potentially Natasha/Pepper.

"I don't want to stir up trouble, but I think they were, well, he and him were meddling."

"Meddling?" Bruce drew his eyebrows together and looked at Stark for clarification.

"She means they were breaking the law," the detective clarified. Then when it must be clear Bruce was still confused, he added in a meaningful tone and with just a small hint of a smirk, " _Together_."

"Oh," Bruce said, feeling sheepish.

Meddling? He'd never heard it put quite that way before. The pedantic voice in his head protested that it didn't even make sense as a euphemism.

Before he could stammer something more out the woman said quickly, "Not that I would call it 'breaking the law' only that it is what it is, I suppose, and I'd hate to see a nice man like Mr. Coulson have his name sullied just because he happens to have a thorn in the flesh, so to speak." Bruce narrowed his eyes at the young woman. "After all, aren't we all sinners in our own way? The Lord himself says we oughtn't worry about the speck in our neighbor's eyes and I've tried to live by that even if I don't always understand a thing. So..." She hesitated and looked between them. Then she took a breath, seemingly steeling her nerves, before saying, "So please if you should find out it's true, have mercy on his departed soul."

Bruce looked at his eccentric colleague, genuinely curious what his response to her request might be.

With a dramatic bow of his head and hand to his heart, Stark answered, "My dear lady, I would never think of maligning a man, or woman, simply for where he or she finds pleasure." The lady blushed and looked away. "It's real criminals I'm after. Thieves and murderers and those who cause harm to others. The Good Book also says, and forgive my bluntness, sex is a personal matter. If this Mr. Coulson and Mr. Barton were mutually inclined to love one another in that way, who am I to interfere?"

The woman still had a blush on her cheeks, but as she looked back at the detective it was clear in her upturned smile and twinkling eyes that she was charmed rather than repulsed by him. Bruce trampled down a sigh and returned to the matter of the case.

"And beyond that, beyond the, uh, meddling I mean, is there anything else you can tell us about Mr. Barton?"

She blinked, as if broken from a trance and Bruce had a sneaking suspicion she'd forgotten he was even there. Her look turned studious for a long moment before she answered, "No, I can't say that I can. I'm sorry. I only met him the few times as I said before."

"No apology is necessary," Stark assured her. "You've given me a few new theories to consider. My partner and I thank you for your time," he said, standing to his feet.

Bruce followed suit, giving a small bow.

She stood as well and followed them to the door. Just as they'd reached the bottom step of the flat she exclaimed, "Oh!" They turned in sync to look at her. "I just remembered something."

Stark glanced at Bruce before prompting her with, "Yes?"

"There was a woman, a lovely woman with the reddest hair I've ever seen. She visited Mr. Coulson a couple of times and once was with that Mr. Barton fellow."

"And her name?"

"I was never introduced to her properly," she explained and Bruce wondered how that could be helpful in the least. They couldn't possibly scour all of Brooklyn, Manhattan or beyond for a lovely redhead. "But, you see, she was," the woman seemed to consider her words before continuing, "she was an extraordinary beauty and with that hair, I would recognize her anywhere. And I did," she added quickly before holding up her finger for them to wait.

She disappeared into the building and Bruce met Stark's eyes with a raised eyebrow. The other man shrugged.

"I suppose you have to leave no stone unturned?" Bruce asked as a means to make light conversation.

"Or perhaps I'm just interested in hearing more about this extraordinary beauty," Stark quipped.

Bruce trampled down another sigh. "That reminds me, so do women just fall at your feet everywhere you go? Because I'm noticing a pattern."

"Not _everywhere_ ," Stark answered. "And not only women," he added.

Bruce blinked several times, but before he could process the detective's nonchalant delivery of a very serious statement or consider how he should respond, their previous host returned to them.

"Here it is," she said and held out a newspaper clipping. Bruce took it since Stark certainly wouldn't no matter how interested he might be. "I was right," she said, sounding pleased with herself. "Recognized her immediately."

Bruce looked over the clipping featuring an article about a local suffragette. There wasn't a name printed with the picture, but he was sure Stark could track her down if he visited enough temperance leagues or suffragette houses with a description of her.

"May I take this?"

The woman blinked. "Oh. Um, yes, I suppose so."

"Thank you," Stark said with a tip of his head, "for your services."


	3. The Iron Man (The Thin Man AU)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated G - So I love love love this old detective series called The Thin Man, both the films and book series they were inspired by, and for a minute I wanted to do an au based on the first film in the series so I could just have Tony and Bruce bantering and stuff like Nick and Nora do in said film. Then I realized it was unnecessary and nobody else would probably want it so yeah. Features Steve/Peggy.

 

The streets of Brooklyn were foggy that night in late October. There was an eerie quiet settled across the neighborhood that Dr. Abraham Erskine's home and workship resided in. Inside, however, was cause for lively celebration.

"I'm so glad you approve of Steve, father," said the auburn haired young woman, Margaret Carter or Peggy as she was known to everyone other than her mother, as she stood with a drink in hand. It was a toast to the announcement of her engagement to a Captain Steve Rogers, a blue eyed blond man standing just to her left. "Mother doesn't approve and Colonel barely approves now that Steve has made rank."

Dr. Erskine frowned. "How is it they shouldn't approve of a nice boy like Steve?" He asked in a strong German accent. The doctor was an immigrant who had fled Germany in the impending rise of the Nazi party. He was a scientist and inventor and would not give himself over to the propaganda spreading like wildfire through his motherland.

"Well, you know mother. She would have me marry a rich socialite." Peggy made no small show of rolling her eyes as she sat her glass back down on Erskine's desk. "As if I would enjoy marrying man after man like she has, which would be sure to happen." Her real father had been a man she didn't even know. Dr. Erskine had been the second husband, whom Peggy was most fond of and considered her father. There had been a few other men in and out that she didn’t quite recall, none of the relationships getting to the point of marriage, before her mother had remarried a Colonel Chester Phillips, not for his military office but because he came from a very wealthy military family.

"And the Colonel?" Erskine raised an eyebrow, looking at Steve.

Steve shrugged. "Colonel Phillips thinks I'm too soft. He said something once to the affect of my guts should be in my head and not my heart. I don't know. It's like I told him, I'm just a kid from Brooklyn. If we should go to war, then I want to be there to make sure as many of our boys come back as possible. That and, well, I don't like bullies," he said with a charming smile before finishing off his drink.

"Neither do I." Erskine returned the smile. "You'll see, Captain. In the end wars will always be won by men like you." There was a solemn pause of foreshadowing. "So, when is the wedding?"

"We might be crazy, but just after Christmas," Peggy answered, her lips turning up into a smirk.

"Oh, no, no. I am leaving on a long business trip tomorrow. I don't know if I will return in time."

"Business trip?" Peggy suddenly looked concerned. "What could you possibly be doing that would take you away for so long."

Erskine looked around, paranoia etched on his wizened face. "I have a new medicine that I have been working on. I can't speak of it at the moment, but this trip is very important."

"Oh." She nodded. "Well, we'll just have to postpone the wedding if there's nothing for it. I'm sorry, Steve." She turned an apologetic gaze toward her fiancé.

"I understand," Steve replied. "If you're not happy on our wedding day, not much sense in getting married. We can wait."

"No, don't bother on my account. I will just make a few rearrangements and be back before Christmas. It shouldn't be a problem."

Peggy furrowed her brow, but looked hopeful just the same. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. You don't need any further reasons for your mother to oppose the marriage," Erskine pointed out and she nodded in understanding. "I promise you I'll be there."

"Thank you, father," Peggy said with a smile. She hugged him and kissed him fondly on the cheek. "We'll be going now. But don't forget, darling, the 30th of December."

"I won't."

* * *

 

"Tesla, what are you… Not again." Dr. Bruce Banner was no match for the tenacious terrier that dragged him down the Manhattan block. It would almost be embarrassing to see the grown man, though not abundantly tall or overly muscular, being overwhelmed by such a small creature if not for the fact that anyone who knew said creature was well aware that there was little controlling the tiny terror. Bigger men than him had failed when Tesla was being truly ornery.

"How much would you want to bet he's heading for another bar?" The question came from the strawberry blonde, a Pepper Potts, strolling just behind him and was accompanied by a teasing laugh. Her hair was pulled up slightly, curling softly on her shoulders with bangs that curled softly as well beneath her stylish hat. She picked up her pace to keep up with him, heels tapping against the pavement and parcels held tightly beneath her arm.

"After the afternoon we've had, I wouldn't take that bet for all the money in the world, Miss Potts," was Bruce's reply over his shoulder as he tried to pull back on the dog.

"Well, you don't need it like some of us," she teased as they came to a stop outside of a lounge.

He sent her a playfully withering look before sighing and letting Tesla drag him into the establishment. He plaintively ignored the shouts of workers telling him dogs weren't allowed, leaving it to the woman behind him to clear up the matter.

Sure enough, Bruce spotted the rich, handsome, famous and outrageously lush Tony Stark standing at the bar. He let go of the leash and watched as the terrier hurried over to his preoccupied master.

"Why, Tesla? What are you doing in here?" Tony bent his head down a little in confusion at the barking dog at his feet. He then reached down and grabbed the dog under one arm, not sacrificing the drink in his other hand.

"I'll have you know we've been in and out of every gin mill between here and Macy's," Bruce said with a shake of his head, coming over to stand by the other man. "I'm beginning to understand why it takes you so long to walk him sometimes," he said in a hushed tone but one full of humor. "He's been a scamp the entire way, hasn't he, Pepper?" He said louder, directing his comment to Pepper when she joined them.

"Two more glasses," Tony said to the barkeep, indicating toward Bruce and Pepper.

"He gets it from his father's side," Pepper said with a knowing look.

 Bruce hummed and nodded. "And just how is his father's side?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

"It's better now, thank you," Tony answered very seriously. "How's yours?"

"Say, uh, how many drinks have you had?" Bruce eyed the drink in his hand suspiciously, Pepper sharing the look.

"Uh, I believe this makes 6 martinis," Tony answered, downing it.

"6?" Pepper blinked at him.

"Tony," Bruce merely said, shaking his head as he did. The other man shrugged. Bruce looked down at the martini placed on the bar in front of him. "Thank you. And if you could, line up 5 more right behind it." Bruce pointed to the bar with a look that said he wasn't kidding even though he rarely drank even half of one.

Tony's lips turned up into a crooked smile and Pepper groaned.

* * *

 

Bruce groaned as he lay in his bed at the Normandy hotel, eyes closed. Tony came into the room carrying an ice pack, smiled down at the man, and then leaned over him to place it on his head. Bruce groaned again.

"What hit me?" He asked, voice dry.

"The last martini," Tony answered with a smirk, still bent over him. "Want a little pick-me up?"

"Get the hell away from me," he answered in warning.

Tony jumped back in an exaggerated motion, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Okay, okay. Light weight."

Bruce sat up in the bed and swung his feet to the opposite side, stumbling over a little as he did. "What's the idea of pushing me?" He grumbled. Tony opened his mouth to respond, but there was a ringing at the spacious hotel apartment's door. "Great. Who could that be?"

"Probably Santa Claus," Tony quipped.

"Is Pepper still around?" Bruce asked, straining a little to turn his head questioningly toward the other man.

"Nope. Went out to meet a friend for Christmas Eve cocktails."

"She went out for drinks and you didn't beg to go along?" Bruce eyed him incredulously as he finally stood to his feet and followed him into the living area. He flopped down into the chaise, icepack still in hand.

"I had other ideas in mind," Tony replied before moving to answer the door finally. He opened it to find a young man and woman he wasn't familiar with, furrowing his brow in confusion. "Hello?"

"You probably don't remember me, Mr. Stark," the woman said first, smiling and not at all shy in her manner.

Tony gave her his own smile. "Probably not."

"I'm Peggy Carter."

Tony's eyes widened. "Why… No? Not that little scamp that used to run around causing trouble in Dr. Erskine's labs?"

Her eyes brightened. "One and the same."

"Well, then, come in," he said, gesturing for them both to head into the living area. They sat on the couch. "Sorry about the wait at the door," Tony apologized as he followed behind them. "My friend here is a little too hung over at the moment to be courteous on my account and I was in the other room."

Peggy looked over at Bruce with another smile. "Dr. Bruce Banner, yes?"

"Or what's left of him," Bruce answered as he managed to sit up. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"And yours. I'm Peggy Carter. My father has mentioned your work."

Bruce narrowed his eyes at that. "Your father?"

"Didn't you know, Peggy's my daughter," Tony said. "We just pretend we're old friends for the sake of the press. You know how it is."  

"I can imagine," Bruce replied, rubbing a temple. "But are you serious? Because my head's still swimming a little and I wouldn't be _too_ surprised if you did have a daughter, you know."

Tony raised an eyebrow in his direction that seemed to say, "Wouldn't you?"

"Mr. Stark is a fastidious liar," Peggy answered, quirking her own eyebrow.

"There isn't enough alcohol in the world for me to argue that point, Miss Carter," Bruce replied with a rusty chuckle.

"He used to tell me all sorts of outlandish stories about being a detective when I was a girl," she said with a laugh of her own. "But, no, my father, that is my step-father, is Dr. Abraham Erskine."

"Erskine?" Bruce perked up a little. "Oh, yes, I do recall him mentioning he had a daughter. I only knew him briefly while I was still a student at Harvard. Wonderful man. I take it you know him, Stark?"

"Yes." Tony nodded. "Brilliant man. I've worked with him in the past. My father was fond of him and worked with him as well," Tony explained. "So what brings you here, Peg? And who's the gentleman?"

"This is my fiancé, Steve Rogers."

"Uh oh. I hope this isn't a wedding invitation," Tony said in response to that, but shook Steve's hand just the same.

"Well, no. That's just it. Steve and I are planning to be married on the 30thand my father promised he would be back in time from a business trip. But there's no word of him. I've asked everyone and you're my last hope."

Tony and Bruce exchanged a glance. "Peg, I haven't seen your father in quite a few years. I've been living in California the past four years and my colleagues and I only came here for the holiday."

"Oh. Yes, but—"

"Ah. So that's it." Tony looked at her knowingly. "You also thought because I'm an old family friend and a detective, you might wrangle me into tracking him down. Is that it? Because I'll just tell you right now, Peggy. I'm retired. I don't sleuth anymore. Doesn't really work out with the company and, frankly, it's exhausting."

"I'm pretty sure her father's alright," Steve spoke up. "She's just a little worried. You understand how it is."

"Can't say that I do, no," Tony said pointedly. He glanced between them. With a sigh he said, "Okay, look, your father had a lot of work with the government. Why don't you report it to the SSR, see if they won't look into it? Tell them I sent you."

Peggy stood to her feet and nodded, Steve standing up right after. "I'll do that," she said determinedly. "But, if they're not willing to help, don't think I won't pester you some more," she warned with a stern gaze.

Tony barked out a laugh as he led them to the door. "I'm sure you will. But I'm pretty stubborn myself." His face then softened. "I'm sure he'll turn up."

"You're probably right," Peggy said with a nod.

"Good luck with your marriage," he then said with a smile as he opened the door for them.

"Thank you," Steve answered for them both, eyeing both Tony and Bruce curiously before he and Peggy left again.

"Well, that was interesting." Tony shook his head as he came over and sat against the arm of the chair Bruce sat in. "I don't know what put it into her head that I would go snooping around for Dr. Erskine. Oh well."

"She's very pretty," Bruce said after a moment of silence.

"Hmm?" Tony looked at the door and then back toward Bruce. "Oh, yes, she's a very nice type."

Bruce smirked up at him. "You got types now?"

Tony leaned forward a little. "Only you, darling," he purred.

Bruce raised his eyebrows as if that was a revelation, but then lowered them again, a thin smile forming on his face as he did.

"Svelte brunets with _wicked_ jaws," Tony teased before closing the gap between their lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure it was clear, but considering that this takes place in the late 1930s, Bruce is Tony's "colleague" for appearances only and they've been in a committed relationship behind closed doors for a while.


	4. MIS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated PG/T - Middle School AU that originally was going to be a prequel to [Mismatched](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7751593), but then started to turn into something else only for it to go nowhere. 
> 
> Warning for sexual harassment, threats of assault, and self-harm/body image issues.

Bruce looks around at the private academy he certainly doesn't belong at with no small amount of trepidation. He already feels like he's taking up too much undeserved space as students pass by in their first-day-of-the-new-school-year frenzy. They're scrambling to find lockers, to find old friends, to find classrooms… and Bruce doesn't belong.

He has a locker, sure. He has classrooms, of course. He even has a friend who goes here – Betty Ross – who'd eagerly promised to show him around the conglomerate middle school and high school. But that doesn't mean he belongs there. He wouldn't even be there if Aunt Susan hadn't decided he needed to get away from the bullies at his old school and the toxic memories there, memories of being the crazy drunk's freakishly smart pansy son who'd let his mom—

Bruce shakes his head and unclenches his fist. He suddenly feels all the more like everyone is looking at him, silently judging him for sitting there where he doesn't belong: in the chair outside the principal's office of a school too good for him. Their eyes, though a part of him recognizes aren't really paying attention to him, are screaming at him that he might as well be some nine-foot behemoth as much space as he's wasting – stealing from others who better deserve it. He's angry and apologetic all at once and he only realizes his left hand has hiked his long sleeve shirt up on his right arm to press a bruise into his wrist when he's torn from his own isolation and unstable thoughts at the sound of a nearby ruckus.

He turns his gaze down the hall and sees two boys fighting and several others ready to join in. He tries to look away, tries not to rush in, but his instinct is hard to ignore. He'd just as much rather run away from a fight when possible, but there's an instinct inside of him to go in and break it up and smash the wrongdoers trying to hurt innocent people – which is ridiculous in this case because he's sure it's probably just a case of teenage male posturing or some other nonsense.

"You're going to fucking take it back if I have to break your head a little, Hammer," one of the boys growls and Bruce's blood runs cold before he rushes in, unable to stop himself at that kind of threat. Those were exactly the wrong words for anyone to say and expect him not to be triggered – literally – to action.

He pushes through the crowd and stops short in horror at the sight of one boy held by his neck against the locker by not one, but three boys. He wonders why nobody is helping him until a booming voice shouts, "Loki, stop this madness!"

A blonde, big for a middle-schooler even if Bruce can tell he's young enough to be one, pulls one of the three boys away. Then another boy, smaller, pulls off another of the boys. Before Bruce can think twice, he rushes in and pulls the third off and then dodges back when he swings around to assail him instead.

"Who the fuck are you?" the bully asks in a nasally voice, stopping his attack in confusion. He's definitely not the one who'd made the comment about breaking heads. "You're not one of Stark's fangirls." He looks him over, clearly making an assessment and a humiliating one at that. "Or are you?" He asks then with a sneer. He looks back at the other boy, who looks a little dumbfounded, and asks in a mocking tone, "Is he this semester's model? Huh, Stark? Did you call dibs on the new kid?" Bruce's eyes widen. It must be obvious. It's _always_ obvious. He's torn between flight and fight, kicking himself for getting involved when the nasally-voiced boy says, "Because maybe he'd prefer another option," in a lecherous tone before he's suddenly the one up against a locker.

"I swear if you touch him they're going to have to—"

"They're going to have to _what_ , Mr. Stark?" An adult's voice, one Bruce already recognizes as Principal Fury's, calls out and the throng of students start to disperse. "Ah," he calls out, "nobody's going anywhere. Everybody go wait in Room 110 for questioning while I deal with this." He looks at the boy and girl on either side of him. "Mr. Coulson, Miss Romanov, I'm putting you on monitor duty until I get there." They nod and all of the students then disperse in a begrudging fashion.

Bruce doesn't know if should go or stay, mostly he's still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that it had been the Stark kid that had made the threat about breaking a head, when Principal Fury looks at him.

"Not a great first impression, Mr. Banner," he says and Bruce hangs his head, feeling simultaneously small and not nearly small enough. "Not even made it to your first class."

"Hey!" Stark barks and Bruce snaps his head up as Fury snaps his head in the other boy's direction. "All he did was pull this asshole off of me," he says of the nasally-voiced bully. "Then Hammer started sexually harassing him. Which, FYI, is why I started fighting the creep in the first place. He was making gross comments about how him and Aldrich Killian were going to go after Pepper just to teach me a lesson." Bruce feels himself become sick and angry all at once, and suddenly he understands Stark's comment. "So why don't you cut the damn kid some slack for something he didn't have any part in, yeah?" Stark finishes defending him and Bruce can only gape at him.

"I was planning on it," Fury says sharply. "But, you, Mr. Stark. This is not your first fight and the same reasoning stands. You couldn't even get to first period without starting one. The only way you get off with less severe punishment is if your story about Miss Potts checks out. But we need to work on those ready, fire, aim tactics of yours, Tony or it's going to be a long six years between now and graduation." He sighs and turns back to Bruce. "You get off with a warning, but I'm still going to question you." Bruce nods in defeat. "Now everybody left here, follow me."

Bruce looks at Stark to see him studying him. Not enjoying the attention, he ducks his head and follows quickly after Principal Fury. 

* * *

 

"So, uh," Tony looks around when it's just him and the intriguing new kid, Bruce Banner, left in the room to be dismissed by Fury, "can I go to class now? You know, since you're not going to suspend me or anything?" Thankfully enough students had heard the exchange – thankfully Justin Hammer was obnoxious and loud – and so the jerks would get what was coming to them and he'd just get detention.

"You're still here, Mr. Stark," Fury says in that deliberately slow and clipped manner of his, "because you're going to be Mr. Banner's official guide." Tony's eyes widen. New students are always assigned a guide to help them navigate through their first week. He's just never been selected to be one of those guides.

"You trust me to do that?" Tony balks, but he steals a glance at Bruce in consideration. He's not entirely opposed to the idea. It might give him a chance to pick the boy's brain. Or at least get to the bottom of why he'd felt inclined to jump into the fight in the first place.

Fury snorts. "Not at all. Less so now given the circumstances. But, you have all the same classes, and seeing as you've already been introduced, I'm going to take my chances and let you prove to me you can be responsible."

" _All_ the same classes?" Tony hadn't heard much after that statement. His eyes are even wider now and he's glancing back and forth between Bruce and Principal Fury. The only way that's even possible is if this Banner kid is at least marginally intelligent enough to handle the AP classes that put the other AP classes to shame.

"All," Fury confirms with a short nod. "So, something tells me you just might get along. Try not to make Mr. Banner regret the company." He jerks his head toward the door. "Now you can go."

Tony stands to his feet and looks at Bruce, waiting for him to do so too. He seems hesitant, but then he stands and Tony walks out of the classroom expecting him to follow. He makes his way down the hall and then stops to see where the other boy is. He's several steps behind and Tony tries not to roll his eyes. He's been accused of moving too fast for normal human beings to catch up, mentally and physically. He calls it being a genius, but whatever.

Tony looks at his watch. Homeroom is practically over. "How about I show you your locker," he offers. Bruce shrugs silently, digs out his schedule with locker assignment and hands it over. Tony doesn't take it, it's a peeve, but looks at it closely enough to speed read the contents and whistles. "Prime real estate for a newbie," he says, but he's more impressed by the confirmation that Bruce is indeed at least a little intelligent. He doesn't seem to say much though. "But watch out for your locker neighbor," he says then and starts walking again. "Natasha has the locker next to it and we won't get reassigned until high school," he explains. "So you might not want to make her your enemy. She's terrifying. I think she was raised by ninjas or something."

"Uh, sorry if I'm making you uncomfortable," Bruce apologizes when Tony pauses, which is… weird.

"Okay?" Tony glances over his shoulder at him strangely, since the boy doesn't seem to want to walk alongside him for some reason.

"I mean…" He flushes and ducks his head like he's embarrassed. "You're rambling so I thought… I thought my silence is uncomfortable or maybe you're just trying to be nice when you really don't want to be is all." He shrugs, keeping his eyes down.

Tony stops and turns quickly to look at him. Bruce barely notices in time to stop too. He looks at him curiously.

"So what you're saying is my rambling is making you uncomfortable, but you'd rather not say so you're twisting it so you're the one who's the problem here?" He narrows his eyes at the other boy in study as he widens his.

"Wha—? N-no, I…" He shakes his head. "I mean… I guess I was a little uncomfortable. But only because… I don't talk a lot so I thought… That is, I really did think I'm the problem here." He looks at him so earnestly, so ruefully that Tony has to believe him.

"Oh." He scrunches his face further. "Well, that's dumb." Bruce visibly flinches and seems to shrink away from Tony. It causes Tony to slap a hand over his mouth in genuine apology. Which is also weird. He doesn't usually do that.

Bruce glances back at him cautiously and Tony holds his gaze. Something tells him this might be a really weird start to what might end up being an even weirder friendship. Like the unique individual he is, that thought causes him to smile. Bruce seems surprised by the expression, but he offers faint, almost invisible, smile in return. 

Tony can't stop the way his own smile widens. Oh yes. They're going to be friends. 


	5. Falling Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated T - This was my attempt to expand on the [ Star AU](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4331262/chapters/10917917) snippet from [My Universe Will Never Be The Same](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4331262/) (which was a Victorian-steampunk-space-story, akin to Disney's Treasure Planet and similar fics/fanfics of that nature). This has the first chapter as well as a couple of excerpts from various places in the story. Includes Past Bruce/Betty, Clint/Coulson, Natasha/Laura and would have included Steve/Bucky but that's not in any of these snippets.
> 
> Warning for suicidal thoughts, attempted suicide, previous attempted suicide, Bruce fleetingly fearing he's been assaulted, mention of Bruce's abusive childhood, angst, I am so sorry take care of yourself better than I take care of Bruce pls

The view from the main rock Culver University was situated on offered breathtaking views this time of the year. The student park could be seen on one rock nearby, a brilliant rainbow of colors as the trees began to truly blossom with mid-spring hues of blues, greens, purples and pinks. The distant sound of activity could be heard and the ferry boats, carrying individuals from the main rock or other outlying rocks where resident halls and their port city of Willowdale were situated, were in a steady to and fro. It was the last evening of the week and a time for cutting loose. It was a pleasant night for it, the stars of the surrounding Marvel Galaxy bright in the sky and other nearby bustling planets, inhabited rocks and moons were further vibrant fixtures on the horizon no matter which way one turned to look. There was a reason many came to visit the university, study at it, or to live in the charmingly rustic city of Willowdale.

The far superior beauty this night, however, was Dr. Betty Ross with her dark hair, blue eyes and rose-tinted skin – all glowing in the starlight as she strolled along the university square. Or so that was the opinion of Dr. Bruce Banner as he strolled beside her, his emotions threatening to come undone with every step. It had been nearly two years since he'd last seen her and she'd returned, a beautiful reminder of what he'd once had, on the sort of day when he awoke to the bitter pang of loneliness and regret as if they'd filtered in through his bedroom window along with the morning rays of sun to settle over him.

"I've missed this," Betty said in a dreamy whisper, breaking the companionable silence between them. "I can't think of a nicer place in the sector." She gave an equally dreamy sigh. "I don't blame you one bit for coming back here."

Bruce's sigh was rueful in comparison. "It's beautiful," he hedged, "but I really didn't have anywhere else to go when I returned to this side of the sector. And they were gracious enough to offer me a position… in spite of everything." He shrugged.

Betty stopped beside him and reached for him with her gloved hand to stop him likewise, her thin fingers trailing until they wrapped gently around his wrist so she could turn him to face her. He studied her face. The line between her eyes spoke of disappointment.

"But are you happy?" He blinked at her and she let her hand fall. "Because as nice as today has been, as nice as it is to be spending time with you again, I've been concerned, Bruce. You seem… out of sorts."

Bruce pursed his lips and glanced down at the respectable space between their feet. At one time they would have stood closer as lovers do, because they had been. He sighed and shook his head.

"Some days are worse than others," he admitted. "But it's usually fine. Head librarian may not be the most revolutionizing career in the universe, but it's important in its own right. And I enjoy it. The… The methodology is good. Good for me," he clarified, but had a feeling she'd already understood what he meant. "I like helping the students with their research and projects and general questions and requests. Since I got into the habit of helping people while I was abroad, it feels good to be able to still do that. Then there are the occasional events and other staff to keep things interesting."

She studied him for a moment before turning and walking a few paces away, the skirt of her dress ruffling a little as she did. "So you're satisfied with your job," she said.

"Or at least grateful," he replied with a hitch of his shoulder.

She turned on the heel of her boots. "Okay. And outside of work? How have you been? Are you seeing anyone? Are you making time for friends or are you still a stubborn recluse?" Her accusations were harsh and her tone filled with doubt as to his answer, but there was still concern behind her eyes.

He sighed. He could lie to her, but he wasn't a particularly skilled liar. He gave a broad, open-palmed shrug. "What do you want me to say, Betty?"

"I want you to say you're not going to go on letting what happened almost a decade ago hold you back," she replied. "You're brilliant, Bruce. Your IQ isn't even measurable. How many can say that?"

"Look what good it did—"

"Bruce—"

"No, Betty." He shook his head. "You were almost killed. I have to live with that on my conscience. I can't take that kind of chance again."

"Bruce, you seem to forget I worked on that project too. A lot of us did."

"But it didn't turn any of you into a monster!" He shouted, hands raised over his hand before he came back to his senses. They fell to his side, clenching into fists. He shook his head and turned. Then his spike of anger deflated. His shoulders caved and his head dropped. "I'm sorry. But… this is what I'm talking about."

"Can I touch you?" Betty asked gently and he gave a small shrug. One of her hands came to his shoulder and squeezed it. Then she carefully turned him and pulled him into a hug, cupping the back of his head with one hand and running her fingers soothingly through his hair. It perhaps wasn't the proper thing to do, but he melted into the touch and dropped his head closer to her shoulder. "You're not a monster, Bruce Banner. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to have friends and someone who will love you the way you deserve, the way I wish I could have done. I'm sorry."

He moved his head back up and saw the flash of guilt in her eyes. She hadn't been willing to go with him when he'd gone traveling in search for some kind of peace from the prolonged trauma and accompanying symptoms the accident had left him with. He hadn't been willing to stay and try to find that peace with her love. And she had been too beautiful and full of life and potential to wait around for however long that might take. They'd loved each other enough to let each other go, and even when he missed her warmth, her company, he knew it was for the best.

"Don't be," he told her. "You made the right decision. We… We both did."

"Then why do I feel so guilty?" she asked him with tears in her eyes. "Why do I feel like if we could have just tried, you wouldn't be here punishing yourself?"

"I'm not punishing myself," he protested weakly. "I'm just trying to prevent situations I can't handle."

She sighed, her eyes closing and head falling in sync. "I understand. I just want you to be happy."

"I know." She looked up again. "And I want you to be happy too. Are you?"

She gave him a small, watery smile and he pulled out his handkerchief and gave it to her. She took it with a soft laugh and dabbed at her eyes. Then she held the handkerchief and looked down at it.

"That's actually why I came." She handed him back the handkerchief. He furrowed his brow as he absently tucked it back into his breast pocket. "I wanted to invite you to the wedding in person."

In spite of everything he thought and felt and said, Bruce felt the air escape his lungs like a hard blow to his stomach. He blinked at her, dizzy and trying to focus. Her smile was tentative, but genuine.

"You're getting married?"

She nodded. "And I want you to be there. Please?" Betty searched his eyes.

Bruce found he couldn't say no to her. "Yes," he replied. "Yes, of course I'll be there. This is... great news, Betty."

She smiled and hugged him tight before glancing at the big clock on the main hall. "It's getting late," she said with a sigh. "The ship leaves early." She then hugged him again, squealing a little as she did. "But I'm so glad you're coming. I've been avoiding telling you all day. I was… well, afraid. I didn't want it to be awkward. But you're still one of the best friends I've ever had, Bruce."

"And you I," Bruce agreed and then did the gentlemanly thing to do with another person's fiancée; that is, he pulled back and put some space between them. "I look forward to it."

"I'll write you soon with more details. Father wants a fast wedding. I'm afraid this may be short notice if he has his way," she warned.

"It's fine. But don't let the cavalry charge all over your special day," he said and she gave him an appreciative smile.

"No worries there," she promised. "I plan on making myself downright incorrigible if I have to." They both gave a small laugh. Then she sighed again. "I do really need to say goodnight."

"I'll accompany you back," he offered.

She agreed and the rest of their time together was spent in lighthearted discussion, if interplanetary politics and the debates on star mining could be considered light. Upon reaching the hotel she was staying in they said their goodbyes. Bruce sighed long and hard, running a hand through his wavy hair, once she disappeared into the building.

He began the trip across town to his humble bungalow, lost in thought about the unexpected news. He was happy for Betty, truly, but it was a bittersweet happiness. With any luck, all the luck she deserved, she would soon have the life they'd talked about on warm, quiet nights such as this one. Two young lovers who wanted to change the galaxy with their pursuit of science and have a white picket fence and a couple of kids while doing it.

Well, he'd wanted kids maybe a little more than her, he could admit. Not that admitting it helped matters any. It only compounded the melancholy he'd been struggling with the day long. It only served as the reminder that anything he may have wanted out of life had gone up in flames what now felt like a lifetime ago, but was in truth less than a decade. At twenty-eight he still had years of regret and disappointment ahead of him.

Unless…

His feet had somehow decided of their own accord to continue on the lane, bypassing his house, until he eventually reached the very edge of Willowdale and subsequently the edge of the rock it rested on. He blinked in surprise as his eyes focused, taking notice of the iron and brick fence that ran the majority of the perimeter of the island, excluding only the ferry docks to the other islands or the open docks of the port that sat on the northern coast of the rock.

Alone as the night chill began to settle in, Bruce stared out at the vast and uninhibited view of the horizon this coast provided. And he realized, with a deeper chill than the night could ever induce, where his thoughts had been. Where… where they still were.

After all, it would be so easy to scale the section of wrought iron and onto the sections of brick wall that sat on either side. How often did children do it to be daring? Or foolish lovers? Or those adventurers wishing to be as close to open space as could be? He could do it too. He could do it too and so he did.

He sat along the bricks, his legs dangling over the side. He would always remember the other time his thoughts took this turn. He'd been on a vessel docked at a port on an icy planet he couldn't quite recall the name of since his entire being had been too consumed by other things to take note of it. From the ship all he could see was endless frozen tundra beyond the small city that had dared to colonize along the coast at some point or another in history.

The cold spoke to him both of death and rebirth. He could purge his life of his pain and uncertainty the same way a snowfall on some seasonal planets purged the withering plant life to make way for vibrant and happy growth.

So he'd gone to his measly cabin and found the revolver stashed there as an equally measly line of defense against pirates or other unsavory types; it was rather an accepted law of space travel that every person who boarded a ship need carry a gun regardless of his persuasion, or else run the risk of being denied passage at the Captain's discretion. Rarely was there room for the man or woman who wouldn't fight alongside his fellow man to defend the ship should they be overtaken by hostiles; even a child old enough to fight was often expected to protect those younger ones that couldn't should it come to that.

With gun in trembling hand and an apology on his lips to his mother, the late Rebecca Banner, he'd raised the cold metal to his mouth. A lifetime of fear and anger and despair and bad breaks and horrible choices had washed over him as he willed himself to pull the trigger. Then the world had gone black.

When he woke up again there was a cabin boy at his side. Said boy had immediately run to fetch the ship's doctor. The far too kind and patient doctor had calmly explained to him in his addled state that Bruce had been found unconscious in his cabin, clothes and sheets torn and a gun on the floor. There'd been no evidence of a gunshot and on closer inspection the gun had not been fired. Bruce had pieced together the rest based on his medical history.

Ever since the accident he suffered from occasional blackouts, triggered sometimes under stress although not always. It was one of the reasons he hated himself; he never knew what he might do in that state and it was dissociative. He knew from Betty of one time he'd simply done mundane chores around the house and another when he'd gone out to an open field and stared at the stars until he'd fallen asleep, neither events had he recalled upon waking save for hazy bits and pieces. In the case of his attempted suicide, he'd apparently become violent and smashed everything in sight and yet… he hadn't followed through in killing himself even in his frenzied state. Being a man of science, Bruce had chalked it up to the stronger survival instinct residing in everyone.

Worried he might hurt someone in a violent reactionary state, he didn't try again. No, he'd continued on in his search for peace elsewhere in the galaxy, doing other things, and eventually found enough control over his trauma and emotional responses to come back to Sector 616, homesick and ready to try again. But a niggling voice had always told him he'd regret that choice. And he'd go on regretting it. Regretting it and everything.

Maybe he would have to break his promise to Betty and hope she could forgive him. Maybe now that he knew ways of keeping himself relaxed he could do this without blacking out. He could just push off gracefully enough to break the rock's gravity and fall into the vacuum of space where he'd surely float until he withered away into nothing. It would maybe even be a poetic way to go out, unlike his crude attempt with a bullet.

Well, no, he'd have to stand and jump, he reasoned after a moment. He would need to probably jump to get any actual break from the gravity that would just pull him back down to one of the lower cliffs of rock. So he carefully stood to his feet and stared out at the horizon again.

His eyes searched the countless distant stars, charting them with his eyes until he found the one he was looking for. That warm light he sought out upon instinct. He wasn't sure why or how, if it was a lost memory from his childhood, but that star always called to him when he needed solace. He always set his eyes on it when he had a need to converse with the universe at large or with the memory of his mother.

He fixed his eyes on it and, strangely, tears stung his eyes. Maybe it was another apology to his mother for becoming what she'd fought so hard to save him from, but suddenly there was a thought in his head that of all the things he would miss, it would be this star and the thought was accompanied by a slight ache in his chest. He swallowed the emotions welling in his throat, needing to push them down so he didn't run the same risk as before.

He closed his eyes and shook his head as he thought of his mother's face. Then he thought of Betty and again hoped she would forgive him. At last, he opened his eyes again and looked at that star. "Yeah," he whispered, thinking of Betty's supplications, "I wish I was happy."

But he wasn't. And he never would be. So he took a deep breath and—

"Hey!" Bruce flinched. "Hey, what are you doing!? Get—Get down!" Bruce's heart rate picked up. No. No. No. This wasn't how it was supposed to turn out this time! He spun around quickly to see who was trying to foil him yet again only to lose his footing a little and begin to sway. "Oh shit! Hey! I got you!"

The stranger, a man, indeed had him. He ran quickly and practically leapt like a wild beast, latching on to his arm and tugging him down towards him. Naturally, Bruce's instinct was to struggle against the assault even if it was well-meaning and it made him slippery in the man's grasp.

What possibly could have been the sort of heroic scene out of one of the many books that Bruce now lived among – a graceful fall into ready arms strong enough to hold him and remain upright – became a terrible thing of tangled limbs in free fall and a collision with the ground, although Bruce had the sense to realize the other man even mid-fall had done what he could to slow their momentum and change their trajectory so they landed in the grassy space near the fence with less impact than it should have been.

That, of course, didn't stop it from being a violent tumble that made it feel like his back might be broken and his lungs collapsed if not outright ruptured by his shattered ribs. Maybe he would die after all, he thought until the disorienting and deafening rushing noise in his ears began to focus on a pleasant voice that made him want to go wherever it was, whether it meant living or dying.

"Are you okay? Please, tell me you're okay," it was accompanied by a brushing of fingers along the skin of his face and then through the locks of his hair that must have come undone upon his forehead.

Bruce opened his eyes only to be nearly blinded by an unexpected white glow, silhouetting his rescuer. Or was the man still his foil? He didn't have the clarity to consider the question further as his head swam and vision blurred.

* * *

Bruce's head felt like it was being split open and he groaned as he opened his eyes with great difficulty. Did somebody spike his evening tea, he wondered as he sat up on his couch. Apparently he hadn't even made it to his bed and _oh god_ sitting up was a mistake. He winced, keeping his eyes shut tight and teeth gritted against the pain. He hurt all over. There was even an ache in his lower back not entirely unlike...

Bruce's eyes flew open again. What the hell happened?

Had he blacked out again? Had his unpredictable alternate identity decide they needed to have sex? If so he wishes he'd at least been of present mind to enjoy it, and he didn't even want to think about how dubious that made the encounter for himself or the other man.

His eyes widened all the more when his thoughts took a dreadful turn. Maybe he hadn't blacked out at all. With his pounding head and aches all over that might turn to bruises, what if he had been--

"If you're feeling anything like I did a couple hours ago, you probably need this."

Bruce's heart skipped a beat and it all came flooding back to him at the sound of that voice. His depressed spirits, Betty's visit, the fence along the coast, the interfering stranger. Said stranger was a few feet away proffering Bruce's icepack in his direction. Bruce stared dumbly at him.

"Okay. Your head, not mine," the man said with a shrug and sat the pack on the modest end table. Then he had a glass of water in hand as well as aspirin. "Good to know this sector is at least advanced enough to have painkiller," he said and shoved both into Bruce's hands. "You'll want to take that, I'm betting."

Bruce swallowed, a dry and hard motion as bewildered as he was, but gave an earnest nod before doing so. God, the water was heavenly. He finished the whole glass and then reached for the icepack, groaning in pain as he did.

"Thanks," he finally managed. Then a thought occurred to him, as miraculous as that was given his current state of mind and body. "How did you get me here?"

"Fairly easily," the man answered with a shrug. "Found your identification card. Then hailed down an officer, told him you were unconscious and I needed help getting you home. So he helped me bring you here, or else I would have no idea where you actually lived. But he seemed really unconcerned. Like this is a regular occurrence?" The man narrowed his eyes at him.

Bruce tensed and his body protested. "He probably meant the blacking out," Bruce realized. "It... It's happened a couple times in the past. I'm..." He sighed. "I'm the regular talk of the town."

"Huh." His face became less scrutinizing. "So you're the crazy doctor? What, do you deal in experimental drugs and procedures?" Bruce furrowed his brow. "Your card. Said you're a doctor."

"Oh, uh. Not that kind of doctor." Not that he felt inclined to answer the stranger's questions. He should really send him on his way. "I have a doctorate in nuclear physics. I—"

"You’re a physicist?" His eyes widened and his features became eager.

"Uh… yes. Well, I mean… Not actively. Not, not anymore. I'm the head librarian at the... university."

Bruce finally let himself look the other man over and that's when his brain started to catch up. Whoever this man was he was clearly from another Sector and not one Bruce was immediately familiar with given his manner of dress.

It looked like a military uniform of some sort, only not one he'd ever seen and unlike the coats and tails of the soldiers in 616 or even the neighboring sectors. His coat was high collared and long all around, cutting off mid-thigh. It was vibrant red in color and strangely his trousers were the same red. Unlike the more common silver, all of his buttons and seams and other adornments, including the double belt that accentuated his waist nicely rather than exaggerating the taper of it, were brass; at least he assumed they were brass because of the practicality, but they deceptively looked like gold. The only other color was the brown of his strong boots.

Frankly, everything about it was ostentatious and yet Bruce got the feeling that was perhaps the point. And already it seemed to suit the stranger, what with his thus far bold manners and bright, mirthful eyes that... seemed to be laughing at him that very moment.

"You're not bad looking yourself," the man said with a smirk.

Bruce's brain stuttered, half surprised and half confused, before understanding him. "Oh." His cheeks burned. "Oh, no, I... I was just thinking you must not be from around here." He gestured to his uniform. "I've not seen that sort of military dress before."

"Probably because it's not military dress," he replied breezily. "I mean, there's some resemblance to the Nova Corps uniform, but their uniform is tacky."

Bruce didn't know whether to snort in humor at the implication that his own uniform wasn't tacky or furrow his brow in consideration of the other part. "Nova Corps? Why do I feel like I've heard that before..." He mumbled.

The other man didn't seem to hear him as he barreled on. "Don't get me wrong. Aside from the uniform thing, Nova Corps is the way better job. Being a Star-Lord? Vastly overrated."

Bruce's vision tunneled and the hand holding the icepack to his head fell harshly to the cushion of his sofa.

"I mean, sure, it's a pretty easy job," the stranger continued. "You don't really have to do much most days. Lot of freedom for other, uh, activities." He shrugged. "Except for that little catch where if somebody wishes on your star, bam. Instant portal to the source point and a damn memory wipe to boot. No choice in the matter."

"Oh my god," Bruce muttered, eyes wide, thoughts racing.

"I _know_. Right?" The self-proclaiming Star-Lord shook his head and held out a hand toward him. "So now I'm stuck here looking for whoever it is that wished for, I don't know, happiness or something and—" The man's eyes widened. "Shit. A suicidal, crazy doctor would wish for that." He scowled at him. "It was _you_ , wasn't it?"

The question hung in the air.

"Well, I... I guess so, but... I didn't _mean_ _it_!" Bruce stood up to pace.

"Like that matters! But you must have meant it or else it probably wouldn't have worked. I probably wouldn't be here. Thanks, by the way. Now I'm going to miss Xandar's Sexcentinnial. I mean, sure, I know Sex in this case means six, but still. It seemed very promising."

"Wait... just... just a moment," Bruce interrupted the man's ramblings as something struck him. He turned a dubious eye on him. "How do you know you're a, uh, a Star-Lord or from Xandar if you also claim to have had a memory wipe?" Bruce crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows, challenging him to talk his way out of that one.

The man opened his mouth, then closed it. He opened it again, lifting a finger, but then closed it again. Bruce gave a small _hmmph_ and let his arms fall to his sides.

"Look," Bruce said firmly, "I don't know what your angle is here, but it's not going to work on me. I think you should go."

"Now wait. You _really_ don't know about Star-Lords?"

"I know they're not real," Bruce answered. "They're just a story mothers and fathers tell their kids at bedtime. As a man of science, it's not exactly something I've had much interest in studying."

The other man scowled. "I'm a man of science too. That's beside the point."

"Really? Because raving about some magical fairytale doesn't make you sound like one."

"You know, I'm starting to think I don't like you very much."

"That's fine. I don't much like myself either," Bruce deadpanned and the man's scowl deepened.

"But I'm also inexplicably not okay with you hating yourself," he added, scowl becoming a confused furrow. Then he waved his hand and his expression changed again. "Look, I get it. Your legends make it seem like magic, but it's not. It's just science you haven't discovered yet." He must have realized Bruce wasn't convinced because he barreled on. "That being the case I'm not sure I can really explain the process to you," Bruce frowned at that because he was usually intelligent enough to follow even new, advanced theories, "but the way it works it's a selective memory loss."

"Selective?" Bruce raised an incredulous eyebrow.

"As far as I can explain it, yeah. I know who I am and where I'm from, but I don't how to get back there. I'm assuming you at least know some of the basics," he said, "but part of being bound to a star is the responsibility of seeing to it the party that made the wish gets what he's asked for. The failsafe is that a Star-Lord has some of his memories, like how to get back home..." He weighed his head from side to side like a scale, as if looking for words that would make it understandable to a 'lesser' mind and again Bruce frowned. "Let's used the word, blocked. The memory gets blocked and it's not unblocked until the star deems the wish has been fulfilled. Thus, if a Star-Lord fails, it essentially means banishment."

Bruce blinked several times. "Okay... That sounds a hell of a lot like magic," he said, tone more dubious than before.

The man huffed. "Fine. It's a little bit like magic. I mean, it's more like a cosmic all-knowing sentience, but sure. Magic."

Bruce blinked again. "It also sounds a hell of a lot like you need to get out of my house."

"Didn't you hear everything I just said? I can't get back home unless I help you."

"I heard you. I just happen to think you're insane." He shook his head and moved to his kitchen to put on a kettle for tea. He needed it to calm his nerves. This day had shaped up to be bizarre, even for what Bruce was used to in his life.

"And there are those who would agree with you," the other man replied flippantly, voice trailing after him, "but I _am_ a Star-Lord." Bruce turned and glared at him for following. Not surprising, the man didn't even blink. "I know I can convince you if you give me a chance. Ask me anything, I can tell you the answer."

Bruce couldn't resist and looked at him plainly. "Where's Xandar?"

"You know what, fuck you," the man seethed and turned to sulk away.

"No thanks."

"Wasn't an offer," he growled back at him, disappearing from the kitchen.

Bruce felt a little like growling himself. The whole thing had been a mess from the moment the lunatic had prevented his... He winced. Okay, well, maybe he'd been acting a little like a lunatic too, he thought in retrospect. In spite of the sanity of his rescuer, he was relieved to be alive. That hadn't been the case after his first attempt. Bruce sighed. Maybe he should stop being petulant and return the favor. Clearly this man needed help just as much as he had.

With that in mind he turned off the burner heating the kettle of water and turned to look in the direction the man had gone. He furrowed his brow when he realized how quiet it was. Not even a grumble. Had he left then?

Bruce took a deep breath to steady his nerves – not that he expected another blackout anytime soon after having been unconscious before – and then made his way back to the main room. "Listen, I'm sorry for being hosti—" Bruce came to an abrupt stop and wondered if maybe he _would_ have another blackout as dangerous as his sudden fear and anger were. "What the hell do you think you're doing!?"

The man stopped his own actions and looked at him, puzzlement in his eyes. "Your clock doesn't work," he said of the very grand clock that stood with honor as the focal point of the room.

"That's because it's a one of a kind," Bruce explained, desparation edging his tone. "It... It was specially made and the parts... They were rare. Haven't been able to track any down. Never found a clocksmith able to do it either."

The man gave him a long, studious look. "Nobody holds onto a broken clock unless there's a reason," he concluded and then returned to fiddling with it.

"Stop," Bruce choked out. "Please, I... It was my mother's. It might not work, but don't break it more than—"

Bruce's words were cut off by the unexpected sound of the melody the clock played whenever it struck the hour. There was a sudden deluge behind Bruce's eyes and he trembled as the haunting chimes met his ears for the first time in years, since when he'd been a child and his father had opened it up and broken it beyond repair. Or seemingly beyond repair because now... Now it was working again.

The deluge moved in streams down his face as his mother's voice filled his mind in perfect time with the soft melody, singing the lullaby she would sing to him to the tune when he was little and the clock hadn't yet been destroyed.

"Are you okay?" Bruce looked at the man who'd asked the question to see him looking more puzzled than before. "I thought this would make you happy..."

Bruce ignored the subtext and just nodded. His mouth quivered a few times before he said, "It does. It's just... It's been so long. It... It makes me think of my mother and..." He closed his eyes. "I miss her so much. I thought I'd never hear that chime again outside of my memories."

There was silence save for the clock, until that too went quiet again. Bruce took in a deep, shaky breath and when he opened his eyes again the stranger was looking at him with an intense gaze and tilted head, his expression otherwise unreadable.

"Then I'm happy I was able to fix it for you," he said. His tone was genuine.

"Thank you," Bruce replied, offering him a weak smile. "How? How did you manage it?"

He shrugged. "Comes with the territory. Most Xandarians are intelligent, but you have to have a minimum IQ before you're called up for duty as a Star-Lord. I'm a bit of a special case. I'm smarter than, well, everyone," he said with a hitch of his shoulder, "so they called me up a little younger than your average Star-Lord. Any intelligence you already have is heightened by the connection with the star. It gives you a sort of intuition and energy. You'd probably call it magic," he said. "But then I'm sure some in the galaxy would think powering gadgets with—"

"The energy from stardust," Bruce guessed his point and gave a sigh. He glanced at the clock. "Yeah, I guess I can see how that would seem like magic."

He looked back again. He wasn't sure he was ready to give in just yet, but after having fixed his mother's clock, Bruce decided the stranger deserved at least a chance to be heard. If he was still crazy, as Bruce hadn't suddenly stopped believing by any means, he was at least harmless and maybe just needed someone to listen to him.

"Do you at least have a name?" Bruce asked. "What do I call you?"

The man's face brightened and then he smiled, wide and blinding. "It's Tony. Tony Stark."

* * *

 

**EXCERPTS**

_**(a little later with Bruce trying to attempt some research on Star-Lords)** _

Bruce scanned a shelf of books in the mythologies section of the library for a handful of titles to add to his growing collection of reading material. His fingers thrummed from spine to spine until they found the first title. He quickly pulled it from the shelf, looked it over, and then added it to the cart beside him. He then moved to find the next one from the mental list he'd compiled from the catalogue.

Tony caught his eyes from the peripheral. Bruce turned his head to see him at the end of the long aisle, staring up and down and around and then studying several titles more closely – only to repeat this pattern. He'd been doing so since coming into the library.

"Do you—" Bruce paused, his voice sounding loud and awkward in the otherwise serene atmosphere. Tony had sharply moved his head to pay attention to him, waiting for him to continue. "Do you have books where you're from?"

"Sure," Tony answered with a small nod, and then looked back and forth between the two high shelves that stood on either side. "We have books, but nothing remotely resembling this. Our libraries are fairly small. Do you have computers?" Tony asked, moving forward.

Bruce grabbed two more books and set them on the cart. Then he shrugged and echoed, "Sure." He turned and pushed the cart out of the aisle and towards the rows of tables for study and research. "In fact there are computer stations in our technology center." He pointed to the far left hand corner of the second mezzanine.

He stopped at the first table he reached and started moving books from the cart to it. That's when he noticed Tony had stopped following. He was standing in place, eyes fixed on the location Bruce had pointed to. He had a curious look on his face.

Finally, he returned from his reverie and looked at Bruce. "Well, all of our books are stored on computers."

Bruce blinked and glanced around at the library, filled with thousands of books. The idea of all of them being stored on computers was a fantastical one, even for a hypothetically crazy man. Sure, they now used computers to store texts, charts, maps, and other data so the notion wasn't entirely impossible. But no computer could possibly hold so many books. The idea was preposterous.

"Really?"

Tony heard his skepticism and said, "Well, you have to understand, our computers are likely more powerful than yours." They both took a seat, directly across from one another. "And we have near-direct access to the brightest star cluster in the universe. So it's essentially an endless supply of energy to work with in developing new gadgets or making old ones better."

"That makes sense," Bruce admitted. For crazy ramblings, the man had done his research on how to really sell it. Then he frowned as a thought occurred to him. "But you realize stars aren't simply endless resources we can steal from to satisfy our greed for progress, right? We're destroying our nebulae with our mining, preventing the birth of healthy new stars, and we're depleting the stars we have now with our aggressive attempts to go straight to the source."

 

_**(the snippet published in My Universe Will Never Be The Same, copied here)** _

"Well, well, well." Darcy looked him over with a smirk as he came into the newly updated Astronomy building of the university. "Look who's finally out of the library."

Bruce frowned at the young woman. Darcy Lewis was a student there to study interplanetary political science, but she was fulfilling the internship required of all students under astrophysicist Dr. Jane Foster. She was short and exuberantly energetic with dark, wavy tresses worn down rather than up as was the usual style of other men and women in her desired field - say nothing of all of the other traits about her that made everyone wonder how she might succeed in politics - and she seemed to Bruce always to have an impish countenance. At the sight of her Bruce did his best not to develop a headache before he even got to his main reason for being there.

"I'm here to see, Dr. Foster," he said evenly.

Darcy huffed and rolled her eyes. "Always so proper," she said as she turned. Bruce followed. " _Jane_ is in the observatory. You really need to lighten up."

"That's what _I_ keep telling him," Tony cut in eagerly behind him and Darcy spun around as if startled by his presence. "He's actually quite nice to be around if you can manage it." Tony looked at him with his lips twisted sideways, judging him yet again for his tendency to tiptoe.

Darcy blinked and shifted her eyes back and forth between them. "Okay. What's going on here? Who is _this_ fellow? And since when do you have any friends to accompany you?"

"Friend may be overstating our relationship a little," Bruce said with a sigh. "I really need to speak with Jane." He glanced at Tony warily. "Preferably alone. Think you can entertain my _acquaintance_ while I do so?" He looked back at Darcy.

Darcy gasped melodramatically. "Why, Dr. Banner. Are you actually proposing that I, an innocent young female, stay alone with a deliciously handsome stranger who may have untoward designs?" Bruce's mouth parted and his eyes narrowed. "How improper of you."

"Innocent? Really?" Bruce raised an eyebrow, and ignored the strange sensation in his stomach the rest of her comment had induced. "Because I've caught you in the stacks far too many times to know that's not at all the case."

"Jealous?" She raised an eyebrow back. "Because, you should know, I have _nothing_ against an established man." Her smirk was probably meant to be coquettish, but it failed as far as he was concerned.

"Why would he be jealous?" Tony questioned, scowling fiercely at the younger woman. "It's quite obvious he's not attracted to you."

"How would _you_ know?" Darcy challenged, probably just to be ornery.

Bruce sighed and ignored the strange argument over his feelings of attraction. "Just stay out of trouble, please," he asked of Tony and gave Darcy a sharp glare he hoped she would know meant not to cause problems either.

Bruce then made his way to the observatory. It was the finest and most powerful observatory in their sector so Bruce could hardly blame the young astrophysicist from losing hours upon hours in it - like he himself lost time in the solitude and vast knowledge provided by the university's great library. And he had to admit that he loved reading or just lounging under the stars at night so the breathtaking view of whatever galaxy the telescope was turned toward painting the domed ceiling - much like a planetarium attempted to mimic for those unable to view the stars up close - was no hard thing to fall in love with. It was like being surrounded by the universe.

"Dr. Banner?" Jane took note of him first. She looked up at him as he approached from the opposite side of her work table. She had a screen projection in front of her, the advanced and practical way of logging and storing information, but the table was littered with old-fashioned charts and one - quite an old one from the archives Bruce could tell with a quick glance - was scrolled out atop all the rest. Jane quickly turned the nob of the stardust lamp in front of the computer so that the light was shaded, causing the projection to flicker out. She then gave him a friendly, questioning smile. "What brings you by?"

Bruce glanced at the open chart and licked his lips, considering how to approach the ludicrous topic. He took a breath and decided perhaps it made sense to just come right out with it. "Are you familiar with the, uh, the legend about Star-Lords?"

"Every star in the galaxy has a keeper and that keeper's soul is tied to the heart of the star and vice versa," Jane spouted in a verbatim tone. Bruce glanced up at her to see there was a small line between her eyebrows. "Everybody knows that legend, Bruce. Why?"

"I..." She studied him and he decided he wasn't able to come right out and say things. "I was reading about it. I was... I guess I was curious about your opinion on it. Since you study the stars, do you think there's any truth to the tales?"

"Truth?" Jane queried. "I don't know. I've never given that aspect much study, I'll admit."

He watched her walk over to another small table off to the side as she simultaneously unpinned her hair. She stopped, combed her fingers through a few times and then began to pin it back up again. She turned and looked at him.

"But if there's one common theme of that which I have studied," she continued, speaking around a bobby pin between her lips before pausing to remove it and add it to her hair. Her hands then fell. "It's that truth as we know it is often very removed from truth as it is. It's not even been two centuries since we realized the once preposterous theory of other humanoid beings like ourselves in other parts of the galaxy is actually true. And-and," she added, eyes lighting up as if excited to discuss it, "what about the nine realms? We thought that was a child's tale. Asgard was a myth until it wasn't," she said with a shrug and warm smile.

"So you think it's possible?" Bruce interpreted as she began fiddling with a crude contraption for the purpose of making coffee. He could see from where he stood that it was a dated model without her frustrated jostling of the gears and gadgets that made it work. Tony could probably wink at the machine and make it work better than new, like one of the finer machines found in a stately home, Bruce mused with a small smile. 

"For such an elite university one would think they could spare a few coins now and then on the faculty," she said with a sigh, breaking Bruce from his musings. She'd managed to get the contraption going and was looking at him again. "But do I think it's possible? Certainly. All things are possible." She tilted her head forward in a small, scrutinizing way.

"Of course," he said with a soft snort. "Forgive my rusty usage of scientific jargon. It's been a few years." He wasn't bitter anymore about that, he told himself. He rephrased, "Do you think it's _probable_?"

"Not with the lack of evidence so far," she answered easily. "There haven't been enough sound claims over the years and none of them have been verified. Are there even any stories out there of people who've _been_ to Xandar?" she quizzed.

"A few," he answered based on the sheer amount of reading he'd done the past few days. 

"Huh," Jane toned as she filled up her mug. "Well, I may look into it then. You've piqued my interest." She turned to look at him with a raised brow, bringing the steaming drink to her lips with two hands in order to blow on it. "But _why_ the sudden interest?" 

Bruce opened his mouth to answer, how he wasn't sure, when there was a breathless startled noise behind him. He somehow already knew who it belonged to by sound. Jane's brass mug fell from her hands and her eyes widened. Bruce furrowed his brow and turned quickly to gauge the reason for her reaction. His eyes joined hers in growing as wide as saucers. 

Tony was just inside the observatory, eyes bright and fixed in a trance on the domed ceiling. White-blue light emanated from his chest and it seemed the longer he stood there that light spread so that there was the beginnings of a soft halo all about him.

"Tony?" Bruce breathed the man's name in awe and confusion.

Tony's eyes jerked downward to meet his gaze and Bruce let out a gasp at the intensity that pierced him. He couldn't look away even as the halo around Tony grew brighter, shifting more and more to blue. Bruce felt his feet start aching to move toward him as Tony's eyes stayed fixed on his unwavering.

Suddenly all of the machines in the room began to come to life, whirring and chirping and clunking and rattling out of control, on their own. Bruce glanced around as did Tony, but then quickly they looked back at each other as if the other had the answer to what was happening. Bruce could hear Jane and Darcy trying to make sense of it somewhere in the room, but all Bruce could think of was taking a few steps forward and then a few more steps after that until-

"Oh my stars!" Jane shrieked loudly and Bruce was startled at last from his reverie. Tony's glow went dim and then flickered out and the machines slowly powered down. "You're _one_ of them," she said coming over to stand beside Bruce and study Tony. "You're a Star-Lord."

Bruce swallowed hard and looked down at nothing in particular. He inhaled and exhaled deeply a few times as the conclusion settled in at last.

"A Star-Lord?" Darcy questioned. "Where's your star?" She sounded dubious.

"I don't know," Tony said and for the first time there wasn't animosity in his tone at the unwanted predicament he'd found himself in, but something vastly different. "I only know Dr. Banner wished on my star so now I'm here to help him."

Bruce glanced up quickly when he felt Tony's eyes on him. Tony's duties as a Star-Lord hadn't suddenly changed; they still prevented him from getting home if he didn't succeed in making Bruce's wish come true, but unlike before Tony's eyes and tone were gentle and forgiving of the hardship Bruce had inadvertently caused him. He almost seemed suddenly willing. Truly willing for more than just selfish reasons and Bruce didn't understand it at all.

"You might not like that," he said with a sigh, because he was pretty sure he'd wished for the impossible and he wasn't in the habit of getting the things he wanted. A Star-Lord's help would very likely not change matters.

"And you just might," Tony answered with an air of finality that, for the first time, made Bruce doubt his own doubts.

 

_**(Bruce and Tony are traveling on a ship much later and it's just docked into a port)** _

Bruce blinked in surprise at the way First Mate Romanoff suddenly changed in mood beside him. Where she had been tense, eyes fixed in an unwavering line, the tension seemed to ease as the hazy glow of the port rock suddenly came into view. He recalled a brief conversation about which port they should dock in following their run-in with the pirates – a need to recoup their losses and deal with the few scalawags they'd managed to take captive – and suddenly her change in mood made sense. They had chosen this one because this was her home port, or as she'd said: where she now called home; where she actually hailed from was as wrapped up in mystery as most things about her.

However, she had also been hesitant to choose her home port, telling them that if there was even the barest hint of having been followed by the pirates responsible for their need, they would have to go on ahead to the next or she would mutiny. Captain Rogers had acquiesced with no seeming concern to her bold words and flimsy loyalty.

Now, though, whatever wariness she'd had was apparently gone. In fact, her eyes were brighter than he'd ever seen, fixed on a point along the docks as the ship broke through the atmosphere of the dwarf planet, descending closer and closer.

As they neared the docks, the woman muttered something in her own language and it sounded like fond disapproval of something. That's when Bruce's eyes were caught by the sight of a wave; he focused his gaze to see a young woman. She had medium-dark hair, was prettily dressed in a simple frock, and appeared to be very pregnant.

When Natasha gave a reserved wave back, Bruce realized this woman was whom she'd been looking at and muttering about. It was easy to guess she must disapprove of a woman in her condition braving the bustling and dirty docks just to greet her. Bruce couldn't help wondering at their acquaintance. Was she a good friend? Sister? Perhaps a close cousin like Bruce himself had.

He was about to ask when the ship came to a stop and Captain Rogers called out, "Ms. Romanoff." 

She came to attention beside Bruce and turned to look at Steve in front of the ship's wheel, where he'd taken over the piloting of the ship for the docking. Bruce followed her lead.

"Coulson and Barton will help me with our unexpected guests," he said of the pirates held below deck, "as well as securing new provisions. Unless it comes with an invitation for a warm home meal I don't want to see your face again until we're ready to ship out tomorrow evening. Is that understood?" Bruce saw the small smile that touched her face as she nodded. "You are dismissed," he said with a smile that belied his stern order.

She gave a quick salute in return and wasted no time in marching in a quick stride toward the now lowered gangplank. Bruce couldn't resist his curiosity and turned back to look from the ship as she descended it. The other woman couldn't wait for her a moment longer it seemed since she hurried to the spot where the gangplank reached the dock and up into the First Mate's arms who—

"Oh," Bruce toned, eyebrows going up.

Natasha was kissing this woman in a way that somehow managed to be both tender and bawdy at once, uncaring of watching eyes. When they finally pulled apart, it was only just enough so that their foreheads kissed instead. Then Natasha, less rigid than she'd been the course of their journey thus far, moved to look down at the woman's stomach. She placed her hands there lovingly and then that look transferred to the other woman.

There were words exchanged, but then Natasha's lover must have noticed her injured hand because suddenly she took hold of it and her face showed every emotion one could expect from someone greeted by the injury of someone they cared for. She seemed overwhelmed and ducked her head against Natasha's shoulder, their arms now embracing each other tightly. It was clear Natasha was trying to soothe away irrational fear.

Bruce felt a pang of jealousy seize his heart over the sweet, if unexpected, domestic scene. It was followed by a wave of guilt over spying on it to begin with. He turned away from where the couple shared another kiss, soft and gentle this time.

"I didn't see that coming." Bruce startled and that's when he noticed Tony was at the railing of the ship, just a few feet away.

Bruce glanced back over his shoulder in spite of himself and saw that the two women were now making their way down the dock, arms about each other as they went. "They seem happy."

Tony gave a soft bark of laughter. " _Very_ happy if that baby bump is any indication." Bruce snorted as well. "I wasn't aware the science of reproduction between members of the same biological classification had been discovered on this side of the galaxy."

Bruce furrowed his brow. "Are you still so surprised that we're not all the floundering and primitive races you were expecting to find?"

Tony took in a deep breath, body tensing, and he let it out on a long sigh. "That's not it." He turned his head to meet his gaze. "I wasn't expecting anything."

"What do you mean?"

Tony shrugged. "Not sure if I've made it very clear, but Xandar is fairly insulated. The actual odds of someone making a wish on a Star-Lord's assigned star in his lifetime are, forgive the pun, astronomical. Not genuine wishes powerful enough to trigger the process anyway." He looked back out at the bustling docks and city beyond. "So we rarely see anything beyond our own settlements. Anything we do know comes from the knowledge brought back to us by the Nova Corps or Star-Lords who do manage to grant a wish and return." 

Bruce tried to imagine that for a moment. He had no idea about what Xandar was like save for those descriptions in Quill's books and of how Tony spoke of it, but by those accounts it was a veritable paradise – advanced and peaceful. For someone like the man beside him, brilliant and energetic with a wanderlust sort of curiosity for everything, that must be like living in a cage. Bruce shivered at the thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the Steve/Bucky bit would have come in shortly after the last excerpt since Bucky was going to be one of the pirates they caught. As for the Natasha/Laura bit, I've been totally obsessed with Laura being pregnant with Natasha's kid instead of Clint's ever since that little clip in AoU where Nat is being all sentimental with the baby bump, like Idk that was 100x cuter to me than any of her nonsense with Bruce. 
> 
> This is probably one of the stories I really really really want to manage to actually finish, but I fear it's not likely ever going to happen because it's a plot monster inside my head. I know what I want to happen, but there's soooo much that I want to happen that it's overwhelming. Idk.


	6. One Day At A Time (EMH)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated T - Set in Earth's Mightiest Heroes, so for quick explanation for anyone unfamiliar with it, in that cartoon Bruce agrees to let Hulk have full control as part of a deal, outside of one day a month. So this is literally just a bunch of disjointed excerpts from a story idea I had where Tony and Bruce become friends (science bros) and start a relationship over the course of those days out.

_**(first meeting excerpt)** _

Tony isn't expecting it the first time he comes into the kitchen of Avengers Mansion and finds a skinny and disheveled man sitting at the island with a very large mug of what Tony suspects is coffee, eyes closed as he holds it in his large and bony hands. He briefly wonders how much good it'll do the chestnut haired man because he looks so worn and weary in a way that caffeine can't really fix.

Then his genius brain catches up with him and he recognizes him from his files. It's Bruce Banner.

His brain spasms just a little as he tries to wrap it around how small and frail and _different_ Banner looks compared to the green behemoth that typically wanders the mansion. He then contemplates what kind of man Bruce Banner is compared to his angrier half. The stories are sparse.

He's contemplating whether or not he should introduce himself, which of course he should since he's Tony Stark, or firing off a million questions, also because he's Tony Stark when the man opens his eyes and Tony is met with wary and weary brown.

"I didn't realize anyone was around," Bruce says with such a soft and raspy voice that Tony feels like he's just found the living embodiment of yin and yang. It's one of the mellowest voices Tony has ever heard. "I thought everyone was gone or else I would have just—"

"Stayed in your room?" Tony asks before he can finish, walking over to the intriguing human who houses another entity. "I won't say I'm not a little surprised seeing you hanging around instead of the Big Green Guy, but you're welcome here just as much as he is." He sits down across from him and Bruce looks at him dubiously.

"I wasn't sure the invitation for free room and board extended to me," Bruce says as he sits the coffee mug down on the countertop, not letting go of it, and looks down into it.

"That… Wow. I didn't know geniuses like us were capable of self esteem issues. Okay, well, obviously I'm not going to kick you out. Not sure how the Hulk would feel about that…"

Tony is startled by the look Bruce gives him when he snaps his head back up and their eyes lock. "The Hulk would probably just laugh. Not much use for Puny Banner on a team of superheroes. As long as it was clear you still wanted him around, he wouldn't care what you did to me."

Tony studies him long and hard for a moment because he doesn't know what to say to that. The Hulk isn't exactly the easiest house guest so he can only imagine what it's like having to give yourself up entirely to him, being trapped inside him. It's a feat of science that even he with all his genius can't quite understand.

"Well, too bad for him because as long as he's an Avenger so are you." Then Tony shrugs. "I won't pretend to understand the details of your working relationship with the guy, but I won't throw you out just because you're not green and angry. Hell, I wouldn't mind picking your brain a little _about_ your working relationship with the guy so keeping you around would be conducive to that."

Bruce's head moves back a little on his shoulders and he seems to be contemplating Tony's words. Then he sighs as if everything is just too much work. "When we… When Hulk came to help against Gravitron, we made a deal. I want him to prove to the world that he can be of use. He can fight for good."

"He's getting there," Tony offers when Bruce pauses in a display of uncertainty. "But what was the deal?"

"He has control ninety-eight percent of the time," Bruce answers and Tony knows that the only strain isn't Bruce's tone of voice. There's a strain in Tony's chest at that kind of arrangement. He knows he could never strike that kind of deal. He's too selfish, enjoys living a little too much. "Barring certain circumstances or absolute necessity, I get one day a month. That's this day."

"Jeez, Bruce," Tony says, not thinking twice about calling the man by name already. "One day? You couldn't have negotiated for… I don't know, something a little more even?"

Bruce smiles ruefully. "I made the proviso that eventually I'd like more time than that, once the smoke starts to clear, but…" He shrugs. "I don't know how well Hulk took that idea. It's not ideal, but I guess it's better than constantly running from the government and worrying about Hulk destroying everything whenever he breaks my control."

 

 

**_(an excerpt from after they've been friends for a bit)_ **

Tony is attempting to fix his tie, but it feels a little too much like a hangman's noose. It's not the Board meeting. It's the fact that the entire night before he had been thinking about what today is. It's the last day of the month. It's Banner's day out.

He's only spent a full week's worth of days with the man, but he can't get him out of his head. Tony feels like he's known him a life time, wishes he had.

The man is brilliant, He's filled to the brim with ideas that range from ways to make the world a better place to actualized teleportation. TELEPORTATION! Tony wasn't even there yet.

And the guy is the opposite of Tony in every way. Tony is well aware that he's brash and manic and sharp and maybe just a little bit socially uncouth. He misses cues and says the first thing that comes to mind and makes a lot of enemies. Bruce is… He's calm and quiet and smooth and, okay, maybe just a little bit socially uncouth too. But he thinks things through and when he speaks it's with a steady conviction.

Bruce deserves the world, but he would rather sacrifice himself to give Hulk a place in this world and keep the world safe from Hulk at the same time. The man can't even enjoy the world he's giving up his entire being to protect. Tony wishes it wasn't so unfair, but since Bruce won't fight it, he's made it his personal mission to make damn sure the guy enjoys each of his sacred days out.

The last time Bruce was out, the gamma physicist had even laughed. Twice.

The sound has been lodged somewhere between Tony's brain and arc reactor for a month. When he least expects it, he recalls the deep timber of it, how it sounds rusty and yet like… like… well, like a symphony.

The man deserves to laugh. The man deserves his own lab, which Tony is working on by creating a separate space for him on one of the sub-levels. And he definitely deserves to spend every day out in the way he wants to with every pleasure or resource at his fingertips. Sure, S.H.I.E.L.D. had made it perfectly clear that Hulk is Tony's responsibility, but since then Bruce has become his unspoken priority.

Tony sighs and yanks at his tie, letting it fall unkempt before quickly leaving his large suite and making his way to Bruce's room. He's rounding the corner toward the hall it resides on when he literally crashes into the man himself. For a brief second it's awkwardly tangled limbs and muttered apologies before Tony stands back and his jaw drops for a second.

Rather than a hoodie or t-shirt, Bruce is wearing a button up yellow shirt - not unlike the kinds he himself often wears - and a pair of slacks. He's still unbearably thin-framed with shaggy hair, but Tony can't find it in himself to complain about either at the moment. Actually, he doesn't mind Bruce's hair. It suits him somehow.

"That doesn't look like it came out of your wardrobe," Tony says before he can think the statement through. "No offense," he tacks on gracelessly.

"It's okay," Bruce says in that frustratingly-calm voice of his (that Tony's beginning to think might frustrate him in other ways). "I only own a few outfits and last time I spoke with Jan, she seemed to think that was a criminal offense." He shrugs. "She must have filled my wardrobe since then."

Tony smiles. "Yeah, that sounds like Janet."

"I figured I had better wear something she picked out or else she might be offended." Bruce then looked down at the outfit in question. "Although, I'm not sure she has much grasp on what looks good on me."

"Actually I'd say she has a perfect grasp of what looks good on you," Tony announces and Bruce looks back up at him in surprise. "Um… I…" He clears his throat. "So you have any plans for your day off?" Tony deflects with a question.

"I think you mean day out," Bruce corrects and his eyes fixate on Tony's unkempt tie with a creased brow.

"Basically the same concept right?" He asks with a laugh, but before anything else can be said Bruce's hands are fixing his tie without a hint of hesitation in them. "So… plans?"

"No," Bruce answers simply as he finishes and his hands pull away. His face seems to fall and Tony's mind is so busy firing on a million different cylinders that he almost misses it. However he couldn't miss the way Bruce turns back around and sighs. "It's one of those days..."

Tony furrows his brow. Bruce doesn't continue for a long enough moment that Tony wonders if he's lost in his mind somewhere, maybe even conversing with Hulk since he knows now that they can do that.

"One of those days," he says again. "There is so much I could do, should do, but it feels a little futile. Because it's just fleeting. Do I waste it with a book? With a movie? Do I leave the mansion for a bit? If I start a project, I can't check on it again for an entire month and we both know you could finish it in half that time."

"Less than half that time," Tony jokes and Bruce snorts softly before deflating again. Tony shakes his head and before he can even think about the consequences he clasps a hand on Bruce's shoulder. "I wish you didn't have to do this. That this wasn't the only way to play nice with Hulk. You deserve better. Maybe I can talk to him."

"I made a promise," Bruce says with a sigh and Tony clasps Bruce's other shoulder as well. "And I don't think he's ready yet honestly. I don't want to ruin the balance we… What are you doing?" Bruce changes the subject when he realizes Tony isn't listening idly. 

"It's called a massage," Tony answers with a teasingly patronizing tone. "I have it on good authority that I'm good with my hands. And you are tense. Unfairly tense. I wish I could do more, you know. I mean, I guess I could. I could fly you to Sweden for a true massage. Or maybe—"

"But you have a meeting don't you?" Bruce asks, but Tony is too happy by the way Bruce is leaning into his ministrations to even think about going to that meeting now.

"Yes, technically," Tony answers. "But I can reschedule it. Or they can go on without me. Because you—"

Bruce cuts off that statement by turning around and looking up at him and shaking his head. "You shouldn't you know. I'd give anything to have the kind of normal responsibilities you do. You can hang up your armor at any point and just be Tony Stark. Don't take that for granted."

Tony swallows hard. Bruce's eyes are warm and intense and just a little sad. He wishes he could erase that last part, create a future where that sadness doesn't exist.

"Dinner," Tony suddenly blurts out. Bruce looks confused for obvious reasons, but it's out there now and Tony realizes he doesn't want to take it back. "You. Me. Dinner. After my meeting. If you don't have other plans first by then."

"You don't have to ask me to have dinner with you, Tony. We've had dinner together bef—"

"I mean out," Tony corrects him quickly. "I mean I'm asking you out. On a date." 

 

 

 

_**(itty bitty excerpt from a fade to black scene lmao)** _

Bruce's lips taste just like he'd started to imagine they might. His stubble scratches against the smooth parts of his face and he wonders what his own facial hair feels like against Bruce's skin. "Is this too much?" Tony asks him as he breaks the kiss for a moment, looking at the other man. "You mentioned adrenaline…"

"It's fine," Bruce answers breathlessly. "We haven't had that misunderstanding for awhile. Not that it makes this a good idea…" He points out in that soft voice of his.

"It's a great idea," Tony counters and captures his lips again. "You… are… irresistible," Tony says between sloppy kisses. And he definitely means it. He's done pretending he doesn't want to have Bruce.

"Never… heard… that one before," Bruce replies, kissing him back just as hungrily, but then pulls away and lets his head fall a little. "You'll just be disappointed," he says.

Tony gently pushes him against the wall and leans his head down so that their foreheads are touching and he's staring intently into Bruce's eyes. "I honestly don't think that's going to be a problem, Bruce. But if you want me to stop, I will."

 

_**(itty bitty excerpt from another intimate scene later on)** _

"Tony…"

Tony nuzzles the back of Bruce's neck before opening his eyes. "Yeah?" Bruce doesn't respond and he wonders for a moment if the man had been talking in his sleep. "Hey, you with me?"

"Yeah, I'm…" Bruce sighs. "For now. Won't be much longer before Hulk takes over again. What are we doing, Tony?"

Even semi-asleep, Tony can't pass that one up. "Each other remember?" Bruce groans slightly at his joke. "Look, I've told you. If you don't want this, if you ever want to stop, just say so." Tony doesn't like reminding him, not when he's finally found a romance he'd rather not cut short. But Bruce's happiness is still his number one priority.

Bruce shifts in his arms to face him. "It's not that, Tony," he say. Before Tony can be relieved, he continues, "But it can never work and you know it. You need somebody who can be around for more than one day a month. You need someone who can support you and…" Bruce sighs again before brushing Tony's bangs aside and then letting his hand fall to Tony's chest in defeat. "I can't do that. And eventually you'll figure that out or get bored with whatever this is and I don't know if I can handle that. I've lost so much already, Tony. I already have so many reasons to be angry."

Tony knows it's not appropriate, but he can't help but smile a little. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you care a lot about me." He places a kiss to Bruce's stubbly jaw. "Now here's a secret. If that's the case…" He kisses just below Bruce's jaw and the other man responds by tipping his head back. "…then I'm relieved." He moves away to study Bruce's reaction. He's not surprised by the surprise that he sees. "It just so happens I care a lot about you."


	7. 5 Times Ross Tried To Take Bruce

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated G - I know that I've mentioned this one before. But essentially I've been trying to get this 5+1 idea where Ross keeps trying to capture Bruce from head to paper for ages and it's still stuck with just the first time having been completed. So, here's that first attempt.

Normally Tony would hate his life. A week away from the luxury of his penthouse in exchange for living on board the Helicarrier should be a nightmare, but playing in the SHIELD labs with Bruce, griping about the food on board the ship, pranking agents with Clint, and then more time spent playing in the labs with Bruce made it less painful.

Oh sure. He could play with Bruce in a lab back at the tower too, but here they could relentlessly trash talk the inferior equipment and mess with the SHIELD scientists. Not that Bruce messed with SHIELD scientists without Tony's cajoling, and even then he sometimes did so with exasperated admonishment of their antics after the fact; Tony called it progress.

Tony was in the middle of attempting to cajole Bruce into some more 'shenanigans' (not a word Tony would use) as they walked together onto the bridge, early for the daily debriefing of their current mission, only to stop short. Across the room General Ross was in a heated discussion with Fury, his face red and annoying mustache flapping up and down as he barked. Indignation burned away all thoughts of goofing off.

Tony felt Bruce lean against him and turned to see him slumped over slightly, hands wringing and eyes looking around like a cornered animal. Now indignation wasn't even the proper word to use as Tony turned his gaze back toward Fury and Ross, just as the General turned and saw Bruce.

"I want that monster arrested!" Ross pointed furiously and on cue the two soldiers near him made their way toward Bruce.

Tony immediately angled himself between the approaching soldiers and Bruce, the latter clutching a little at the back of his shirt. He could also feel Bruce's desperate breaths hot, in a way that genuinely _felt_ like fear, against his neck.

"Don't even think about it," Tony said. "You aren't getting him."

"Stand down, Stark. I've got this," Fury called.

"Right now the only thing between him and those assholes is me," Tony countered and he felt Bruce flinch. "Like hell I'll stand down. There's no way he can just barge in here and expect to take a man like he's property. The last time I checked, slavery is illegal in this country."

Fury fixed his eye on Ross. "It is. And he _can't_ just barge in here and take Dr. Banner. Which is why that won't be happening no matter how red around the collar he gets."

"Now you listen to me, Fury," Ross began barking again, "I will see Banner in my custody if it's the last thing I do. You are only delaying the inevitable and risking the lives of millions of people by letting that _creature_ roam free."

Ross pointed in Bruce's direction again and Tony could barely contain his growing rage. He was sure by now he would have already been Hulk-smashing the bastard in a uniform if he were Bruce. How Bruce was still only slightly vibrating behind him was a testament to the man's control. Breathtaking as always.

"I have a legal right to take him. The Hulkbusters is government-sanctioned and it is my duty to bring him in."

Fury tilted his head quickly and Tony knew it as the look that said he had the General, for now at least.

"You have a duty to bring in the Hulk." Fury made a show of looking around the bridge. "Do you in fact _see_ a Hulk anywhere around here?" Ross sputtered and took a step back. "So, unless you have a good lawyer, if you attempt to take Dr. Banner while I'm watching there will be serious consequences."

"You don't know what you're dealing with here, Director. I could cause him to have an incident right now and then you would see why he needs to be locked up. He's a menace to society."

Fury snorted. "There are a lot of regular people out there that have been deemed menaces to society whether they are or aren't, but that doesn't change a damn thing, General. Now get the hell off my ship or be escorted off. Your choice." Fury turned dramatically in a show of the conversation being over.

Ross shook his head. "This isn't over." He walked away, making his way towards Tony and Bruce. Tony squared his shoulders as the General attempted to burn a hole into him with his eyes. Of course, that was ridiculous because Tony already had a hole in his chest and had lived to tell the tale. "You're playing a dangerous game if you think you can protect him."

Tony fixed him with his own glare. "Maybe so," he said evenly, because those who barked loudest hated the kind of conviction that could cut a man down to size without a single rise of inflection. "But no matter the game I'm playing, I play to win. Oh, and for the record," Tony leaned in and said, tone darkly intent, "I've never lost." He then leaned back again and gave him a sharp smile. "Your move, General."


	8. State of Affairs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A no powers political AU that I literally gave up after the intro/first chapter (that I'm posting here) and a later sex scene (that was mostly for practice and to set the tone for how their relationship, sexual tension, etc. should develop and - excuse the pun - climax, but I'm not posting that here sorry it was comedically bad I promise you)
> 
> Huge warning for discussion of acts of terrorism (inspired by the Mandarin attacks in Iron Man 3) and tragedy. Lesser but still potential warning for domestic issues and pre-infidelity.

_Prologue_

Tony was roused by the ringing of the phone beside his bed. He glanced at his clock, the red digital numbers coming into focus with a couple blinks of his eyes.

2:27 a.m.

He'd only been asleep for a few hours and immediately regretted the many stiff drinks that had helped him get there to begin with, especially as the ringing continued.

Clarity returned to Tony's otherwise fuzzy mind, alerting him that if he was getting a call now, something was wrong. He sat up with haste, only sparing a glance at the empty space beside him, and picked up the receiver.

"What is it, Ms. Potts?" he asked to the point.

"Mr. President, you are needed in the situation room. There has been a terrorist attack."

 

* * *

 

_Chapter 1_

" _My heart is filled with deep sorrow for the victims of this tragedy and for their families. I know it is little comfort for those who have been struck personally by this event, but I want to assure everyone that we will not rest until we bring to justice the person or persons responsible. In the interim, let us come together as a nation; let us grow stronger in our bonds. As the holidays approach, let us take even greater care to offer charity and support and friendship to our neighbors. Though there may be things that divide us, let us focus not on those differences, but instead on the traits that connect us all. In the face of evil, we will stand resilient._ "

"Dr. Banner."

Bruce blinked and turned his head away from the large television playing back President Stark's early morning address to the nation. His eyes refocused on a lovely woman in a crisp, white suit. Her red-blonde hair was pulled back into an equally pristine ponytail and her eyes were fixed on him with a shrewd gaze that matched the rest of her professional appearance. Bruce stood to his feet quickly and extended his hand.

"I'm Ms. Potts," she introduced herself. "Chief of Staff to the President. If you'll follow me." She dropped her hand from the shake and turned on her heel to lead him elsewhere. "President Stark has a very busy schedule today, as I'm certain you understand. He'll only have about twenty minutes to spare for this initial welcome to the team, after which you will be thrown directly to the wolves. The National Security Committee will be meeting with several of our intelligence agencies and military leaders over the course of the next twenty-four hours."

"I arrived prepared for that inevitability, I assure you," Bruce replied.

She stopped in front of a door and turned to look him over as if assessing him. Although her face remained perfectly neutral, it wasn't hard to imagine she was unimpressed. Most people were when they met him.

Bruce opened his mouth to say something else, always hating this part – the scrutiny that made him squirm with all the self-conscious habits ingrained in him from his childhood on – and wanting to deflect her attention away from him somehow. Before he could her expression softened drastically, enough that it was almost disarming.

"I'm sure you did," she said with a thin smile. "You were the president's first and most adamant nomination for this position and I trust that was not without cause."

"Well, it certainly surprised me when I received his offer," Bruce confessed before he could think better of it. If there was any place in the world not to be too self-deprecating it was probably the White House.

She lifted an eyebrow in response before saying, "Yes, well, I'll be frank with you, Dr. Banner. It surprised a lot of people. My warning about wolves may be very literal," she said, opening the door at last. "Some members of the Cabinet and Senate were wary of bringing in someone generally unknown with no experience in politics outside of some military work."

"And I'm guessing certain members of the military insisted I was an unfit pick," Bruce said with a sigh.

Her other eyebrow moved upward before her expression softened again. "But the president has a way of surprising people in other ways, especially when they underestimate him. I'm certain you'll prove precisely why you've been honored with this position. So, if you'll have a seat here," she gestured, "President Stark will be in with you very shortly."

Bruce nodded and sat down. He hoped his sudden uncertainty didn't show too much.

"Oh, and Dr. Banner," Potts added, "welcome aboard and best of luck."

Bruce sighed when she was gone. Not for the first time, he wondered why he'd accepted a position he felt woefully unqualified for.

"I'm probably going to need more than luck."

*

"Dammit, Maya!" Tony rubbed his temple in a sad attempt to soothe away his headache, without more alcohol, as he tried to make sense of what his wife was saying to him. "I get that you're unhappy, I do. But now is not the time."

"It is, Tony," she insisted, her voice sounding distant and unfamiliar on the other end of the line. "I know you don't see it or refuse to but—"

"What don't I see? What am I supposed to see, huh?" He wanted to growl, get angry like his dad modeled for him growing up, but he was just tired at this point and, though she didn't believe him, genuinely distraught by the way their relationship – poorly constructed and almost entirely lavender as it was – was falling apart before his eyes. "How am I supposed to when you won't even help me understand? Why won't you tell me what more it is you need from me, Maya?"

"This is what I need," she said flatly. "And it's what you need too, Tony. This isn't just for me. It's for both of us."

"And what about the kids?" Tony demanded. He was trying to be patient with Maya, but when it came to their kids, Tony's patience was like thin ice. The whole situation reeked of Maya abandoning them and that hit Tony where it hurt the most and raised his heckles. "What do you think  _they_ need?"

"Don't play that card against me, Tony," she warned. "You have no right to condescend to me as if I'm not thinking about them. As if I don't love them. Do you really think they don't already know what's happening here? That seeing their parents going through the motions and resenting each other for things they shouldn't resent each other for isn't terrible for them?"

"I don't resent you!" Tony shouted, but then cut himself off with another sigh. "Never mind. I don't have time for this. I have a meeting with the new Secretary of Energy," he added spitefully, perhaps undermining his outburst regarding no resentment. He could practically feel the daggers in her stare even if he couldn't see them, his having opted for a voice call instead of video. "But, Maya, please," he begged. "Just, if you want a divorce, you can have it."

He'd offered her that option at least a dozen times in their marriage, especially in the months leading up to the election, when it became clearer to him that she was losing interest in the life they'd built together, that the deep friendship and mutual respect they'd forged over the years was starting to wane no matter what he did to try and fix it. But she'd refused every single time. She was stuttering at his response, trying to refuse even now.

"Like I said," he cut her off, "I have a meeting and then a shit-ton of meetings after that. We'll have to discuss this later. But I'm serious, Maya. Now isn't the time. It's almost Christmas. We can hold out that long at least for the kids' sake." She started to protest. "And if not for them," he continued, "for this country. They don't need our personal drama distracting from the situation at hand. After that—"

She didn't let him finish. "Goodbye, Tony. I—" She started, but sighed and the line went dead.

The unspoken _love you_ reverberated like a gunshot in Tony's head and it took him a moment to gather himself up enough to carry on with his duties as president. Beginning with formally meeting nuclear physicist Dr. Bruce Banner, finally. He was eager enough that it helped him shake off his domestic troubles and regain his usual _joie de vivre_.

"Good morning, Dr. Banner," Tony said, entering the room and crossing directly over to where the new Secretary of Energy was sitting. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting longer than you were expecting." He offered a smile and his hand to the other man.

Banner hopped to his feet, looking a little like he was berating himself internally for not having done so fast enough. Tony didn't usually enjoy people gawking at him like a dear in headlights, but it was a good look on the physicist.

Actually, Tony looked him over as discreetly as he could, he was just good looking. Period. Dark waves that had probably taken a bit of effort and hair gel to make him look White House presentable, and just a touch of gray at the temples that didn't do a damn thing to distract from his looks. Dark eyes to match, framed by glasses that also didn't do a damn thing to distract from his looks. Nearly the same height as Tony, which was always a plus in his book. His face was a bit weathered and his body was lean and looked fantastic even in a suit that didn't particularly fit him like a glove.

Banner was good looking enough that it made the basest part of Tony take notice. The benign touch of their clasped hands didn't help matters either.

_Stop it_ , he chastised himself. All things considered, it definitely wasn't the time for _that_ either.

"I don't think I was expecting anything," Banner said as they shook hands.

The deep timber of his voice broke through Tony's internal conflict. He'd spoken to him on the phone once after he'd accepted the nomination to replace the previous Secretary of Energy, Aldrich Killian, but that hadn't done justice to the sound of the man's voice in person. How could a voice manage to be both rough and soft at the same time?

"After all," he was still saying, as he pulled away from the handshake with a shrug, "I can hardly expect the president's schedule to revolve around me."

Banner offered him a small, friendly smile that caused Tony to swallow hard and put a few feet of distance between them. He gestured for the other man to sit again and then followed suit in the chair across from him.

"Well," Tony hitched his shoulder casually, "you might be surprised how difficult that concept is for some people." That earned him a soft chuckle. "But you're one of the smartest men on this planet," he complimented, and hoped he didn't sound too breathless because Tony meant that sincerely, "so I can understand if there aren't many concepts you can't grasp."

"Oh, well, you might be surprised," Banner echoed. He ducked his head and somehow it was endearing, going straight to another, less base, part of Tony.

Or maybe it was still a little base, he reconsidered. Tony had a bit of a protective streak.

It wasn't that Tony liked people better if they were shy or humble; in fact, sometimes fake modesty infuriated him to no end. But Tony had spent most of his life drowning in fake modesty and ass-kissing and barely-restrained egos and here was this brilliant man, almost unmatched in his genius, ducking his head with so much _earnest_ that it was a breath of fresh air, heartbreaking as it was when Tony deduced the reasons that might be since he'd been given invasive intelligence reports on the man while awaiting the Senate's confirmation.

"Or maybe not," Banner said with a hint of uncertainty, glancing up again. "You're also one of the smartest men on this planet." Bruce's eyes locked with his and lingered long enough for Tony to wonder... "So maybe you already know what that's like."

Tony's previous line of thinking scattered and he simply nodded, unable to formulate a proper response. He _did_ know. Maybe that's why he'd sought out another brilliant mind to join his Cabinet, thirsty for someone in his closest counsel that spoke the same language or at least close enough to it since that was a tall order.

As the meeting wore on, Tony realized he'd finally found the other living soul on the planet who actually _could_ speak his language _._ It was dangerously thrilling, but Tony was no stranger to initial attraction where the same sex was concerned, even if it had been a long time since it had ever been this strong so quickly without his having gone looking to scratch his itch to begin with.

Maybe that was it though, he decided. He was frustrated with Maya and it wouldn't be the first time it had led to frustration elsewhere. Once he dealt with the issue more appropriately, or perhaps discreetly scratched his long-ignored itch with someone _who was_ _not_ _a colleague_ , he would probably get over his initial attraction.

Either way, Tony didn't regret his pick. He and Dr. Banner were certain to become the best of friends and that was thrilling enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic was just beyond my ability I think. Or at least it was when I started writing it. A quick synopsis of what I planned for it:
> 
> Tony is closeted for the sake of his political career - being part of like a political dynasty and groomed by Howard for the role - and that Maya is his willing beard and ally because of her own ambitions; the arrangement is that they are in a discreet open marriage, but discuss/agree on other partners in order to keep the relationship honest. 
> 
> Enter Aldrich Killian who pretty much seduces Maya with radical ideas and an intense long-term affair (without Tony's knowledge). His ideas are too radical and he's dismissed from the cabinet and it causes the truth about their affair to come out and leads to Maya's behavior at the start of the story (there would have been backstory integrated later about the events with Killian). 
> 
> Then enter new Secretary of Energy Bruce Banner. Tony is, of course, pretty much done for from the moment they meet (as kind of seen here) and his feelings for Bruce (lust being a major one obviously) only gets stronger leaving him extremely conflicted. He doesn't want to do to Maya what she'd done to him, but also feels justified considering Maya's undisclosed affair and current behavior. Spoiler alert, he gives in - hence the title. 
> 
> Things turn into a political drama/thriller with the Mandarin and it being Aldrich Killian. And ultimately there's a bittersweet HEA.


	9. Natural Selection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS is actually something that started out as an original dystopian fic idea before turning into something I decided I would adapt to MCU/science boyfriends before it turned into "oh my god I don't have the time or energy for this massive au." 
> 
> Essentially, this is snippets from a Dystopian AU where Steve wasn't able to prevent the massive destruction/death caused by Red Skull's targeted bombs (and consequentially he didn't go down with the plane). 
> 
> CW for discussion of marital rape, homophobia and mild internalized homophobia (incl. usage of homophobic language), suicide, and eugenics.
> 
> Also contains minor Steve/Peggy, mentioned Betty/Leonard and mentioned Jennifer/John (Jonah Jameson III) aka her comic ex-husband.

"Did we win?"

Bruce's eyes snap open and he sees Tony blinking up at him, looking like a beautiful kaleidoscope through his tears. He immediately collapses on top of his husband, hugging him close and crying into his shoulder.

"Is that a no?" Tony asks and Bruce chokes on something between a laugh and a sob.

"That was needlessly reckless even for you," he mumbles into Tony's skin before kissing it. He then kisses his jaw, his cheek, his lips, his other cheek, a peppering of his lips everywhere because he's just so happy he's alive.

Tony gently stops his actions by taking hold of his face. He studies him and asks, "So it's a yes then?"

Bruce chuckles and answers that question with a small nod. Tony smiles and uses his hold on Bruce's face to pull him down into a proper, victory kiss.

*

_January 1946, First Meeting of the World Security Council_

Steve taps his pencil hard against the top of the long table he sits at, his idle doodling long forgotten to make way for his growing temper. He glances to his right where Peggy sits in a section designated for the select few women allowed to be party to this first council meeting. She notices and meets his gaze. She rolls her eyes in agreement with his, likely very clear, frustration. He glances back forward, eyes not really focusing on anything. Then he inclines his head toward Howard beside him.

"This isn't right," he says in a low voice.

"I know it isn't," Howard agrees, sighing. It's a resigned sigh. It's a sigh that tells Steve he's not prepared to fight this with him.

Steve looks around at the various delegates gathered there in Geneva from around the world. Dread thickens in the pit of his stomach as he realizes nobody is prepared to fight this. He looks at Peggy again. Is _she_ even prepared to fight this? Steve hangs his head, eyes scanning the tabletop for a second before he closes them.

For the first time since he lost Bucky, Steve feels like there's no point in fighting anymore. He doesn't even have the sake of Bucky's sacrifice to ground him and push him forward when he thinks of the dystopian world outside this gathering hall. The dystopian world Captain America hadn't been able to save.

For the first time Steve wishes he had taken Bucky's advice and left well enough alone. Maybe this would still be the world he'd be living in, but he wouldn't have the guilt that now hangs on his shoulders that he couldn't save Bucky and he couldn't save millions of lives, the latter dooming them all to this terrible fate. Or maybe he would have finally died from one or two or all of his diseases before this ever happened and he'd have been none the wiser.

For the first time Steve doesn't know how to fight back.

"Hydra has won," he mutters in defeat.

*

_September 1985_

"Welcome to life science," the teacher says to the class as she begins the first lesson. "I'm sure many of you have been eagerly awaiting this day."

Bruce rolls his eyes and looks down at his notebook. He starts to idly fill up the page with equations and silly doodles of inventions impossible outside of science fiction.

"This class will take you through the ins and outs of the Spousal Relegation Acts of 1948 and 1964, signed into law worldwide in an unprecedented move by the World Security Council following the tragic and monumental loss of lives in World War II. Now, by show of hands, how many of you have already heard of these acts?"

Bruce doesn't bother raising his hand. He's heard of them, of course. Who hasn't? It's a dumb question, but he doesn't say so out loud.

"Alright, so most of you," she says.

He wonders if he'd been the only one not to raise his hand since he hadn't bothered looking up. He'll probably be teased about it later. _Backwards Bruce has never heard about SRA?_

"We will learn about the events that led to the original act, the early days leading up to the first randomized pairings in 1970, and what we can expect as 1986 brings us our first wave of randomly matched couples. This is an especially exciting time to have this class as we'll get see first hand how society adapts to the SRA in actualization. You may even get a better understanding than past classes on what you may expect as each of you receive your own assignments over the next decade.

"Before we get started, how about we have a quick question and answer session. I want to hear what you're most curious about."

Bruce looks around as several hands go up in the classroom.

"My mom says we'll all get our assignments when we're 21, but our spouse might be older or younger. What happens if we turn 21, but our assigned spouse is younger than us?" comes the first question.

Bruce goes back to writing out a function because he already knows that answer.

"Excellent question," the teacher says encouragingly. "After much debate, which we'll learn about in chapter two of your textbooks, the World Security Council agreed on a clause regarding the algorithm used to assign partnerships. In an effort to predict population growth and needs, the clause allows for partnerships of a maximum five year age difference. This is why the SRA effects everyone born after 1965 even though the very first partnerships were not assigned until 1970," the teacher explains.

"In practice, this means that not everyone will receive their assignment at 21 with the exception of everyone born in 1965. Beginning as early as January first of next year, those who turn 21 will receive their assignment, but some of those assignments will be with a partner currently as young as 16. That is where the clause comes in.

"The clause stipulates that if your assigned partner is younger, the initial meeting will not be until after the younger partner reaches the WSC sanctioned age of majority which is…  Anyone?"

"18," a student says at the same time Bruce mumbles it.

"Right, 18. So, to answer your question, some of you may meet your assignments as early as 18. At that time you will be allowed to choose for yourselves when to legalize your partnership, so long as it is finalized before the end of the younger partner's twenty-first year. Alright, another question?"

"Well, what if they died before we could meet them?"

Bruce stops doodling and inclines his ear, his interest piqued.

"That is another excellent question and one that I do not have a definite answer for. Currently there is no provision for spousal reassignment. However, there are already many advocates who have foreseen this possibility. They have been petitioning for a clause that would entitle people to new assignments between those whose first assignments died prematurely. This is another exciting thing that we will likely see make headlines as we approach the first wave of assignments." 

Bruce wonders who would even _want_ another one if that ended up being the case for them. He knows he wouldn't. 

"Alright, I'd say we have time for one more question before we dive into chapter one."

A boy raises his hand and the teacher calls on him. "Yeah, what about if I'm assigned another man?"

Bruce's heart rate picks up a little and his pencil slips form his clammy hand.

"I don’t wanna be some gay freak," his classmate says. "And my dad says it don't matter what the law's trying to tell us because being gay is still an abomination and we should resist that sort of assignment."

Bruce trembles as he tries to drown out his father's angry voice in his head. He looks at the teacher, seeing the way she's put on the spot. Her previous chipper expression has fallen off completely.

"We'll get to that in chapter four," she starts, glancing at the boy and then looking around the classroom. "But I want to make one thing very clear since I know it may be the first you've ever heard this. The SRA does not require any of you to become romantically involved with your assigned spouse. While it is encouraged, and encouraged for each couple to have one or two children, through natural means or adoption, the government cannot require it nor penalize any couple for abstaining from a romantic relationship. Some of you may find yourselves in marriages with someone who will become no more than a very good friend, much like diplomatic unions and political alliances of old.

"So, please, I don't want anyone to leave this class thinking that you will be required to have either heterosexual or homosexual relations no matter who your assigned spouse might be. As we will learn later, we can thank Captain Steve Rogers for his foresight and his efforts to provide each of you that freedom."

Bruce swallows and it hurts because his mouth has gone dry. He's never dared to learn about same-sex assignments even if he knows they're possible. He's never dared to ask what's required of them compared to opposite-sex partnerships. He's never dared to ask because he's a freak, an abomination who sometimes hopes he'll end up in one.

*

_April 24 th, 2015 Annual WSC Convention New York City_

"With all due respect, council, we have plenty of evidence to the contrary of your position. The underground has become out of control. Suicide and homicide rates have increased exponentially over the last thirty years due to unhappy partnerships. Without legalized abortion we continue to see women around the globe die at alarming rates in back alley procedures."

"That is avoidable—"

"Now don't tell me it's their own fault for their indiscretions. Many of these cases are of marital rape that leaves the woman pregnant with more children than the law currently allows per household. Our women are being forced to risk their lives because their husbands don't want to face the consequences of their crime and our system doesn't exactly make it easy for a woman to come forward. And, you know, some are accidental pregnancies between loving spouses who just can't afford the ridiculous penalties the government will slap them with for going over the allotted number of children even by accident.

"And _that_ is just the beginning. I haven't touched on the horrific statistics among our youth yet. Our teenagers are killing themselves because they live in unstable homes while our social services more often than not turn a blind eye to the issue. They're killing themselves because the idea of having a marriage like their parents is depressing and they'd rather not deal with it themselves. Every year more and more teenagers runaway in an effort to avoid the system we've created. Promiscuity, STDs, reckless behavior, teenage pregnancy, they have _all_ increased as a side effect of our youth's rebellious response to being told who they'll be tied down to against their will. And rather than do anything to alleviate these problems or affirm their worth to our society outside of being one half of an assigned partnership, your honors, you sit there suggesting the answer is another twenty-five to fifty years of this madness? With all due respect, that is a stupid-ass suggestion."

"Are you finished making your argument, Director?" Councilman Pierce asks.

"I will yield the floor to hear what rational rebuttal can be given," Fury states slowly. "But I will not yield this fight so easily."

Bruce glances at his cousin beside him and she smiles. "It was a good speech," she leans in and whispers. "I'm sure he'll have swayed at least a few voters already."

"I hope so," he says. Before he can say anything else, his phone screen lights up with a message. He takes it in hand and reads it. His eyes widen before he reaches the end.

"What's wrong, Bruce?"

"It's Dr. Selvig. There's been some kind of emergency," he says, trying to keep his voice low in spite of his panic.

"Oh god, is it Jane?" Jennifer asks.

He doesn't know and he can't answer anyhow. He only stands quickly to his feet saying, "I, I need to go."

"Of course," Jennifer says. "I hope everything's okay."

Bruce nods. He hopes that too, he thinks as he quickly exits the delegation hall. If anything's happened to her then all of this fighting against the WSC and their proposed extension of the SRA will be of no personal matter to him anymore. If anything has happened to his daughter then precious little will matter anymore.

* 

_June 3rd, 1970_

Steve finds Peggy in the Stark nursery, taking another turn at holding the tuckered out newborn. He smiles over her shoulder as she cradles him.

"He's the spitting image of Howard, isn't he?" he comments.

"Yes, the poor thing," Peggy replies with a small laugh. "With any luck he'll get some of Maria's features later on."

Steve chuckles softly. "I don't know," he says. "I've always thought Howard's a handsome enough guy."

"Well, yes, darling I've always quite suspected that," Peggy looks up at him with an impish sparkle in her eyes, "but that doesn't mean you have very good taste in men."

Steve smiles. "But my taste in women is impeccable."

The impishness grows before she replies, "Yes, well, I also seem to recall you not knowing a bloody thing about women so you may have just gotten lucky I came along and made it a little easier for you. For all I know, your taste in women wasn't very good before me either ergo your difficulty finding the right partner."

"Yield," Steve says with a laugh and shakes his head.

"Good call," she tells him before looking back down at little Anthony. "Want to hold him?" she asks.

Steve contemplates it for a second before saying, "Sure." She carefully transfers the fragile weight to his cradled arms and Steve's heart beats a little faster. "I'm afraid I'm going to break him," he says.

"You're doing splendidly, Uncle Steve," she remarks.

Steve smiles at that as he gazes down on Howard's son. A brief flicker of desire passes through him. He wishes he were holding his own son. He could easily go on holding this sweet little baby for days. He doesn't know what kind of boy Tony will be, but he can imagine what his own son might be like. He can imagine teaching him how to draw or how to play baseball or how to ride a bike. He can imagine…

He moves his eyes to meet Peggy's and sees her impish sparkle has turned to something more bittersweet. The sparkle has turned into a glisten even as she still smiles.

"We still could…" He suggests haltingly. "If… If you want. We could try." She closes her eyes and he hates the way the tears dampen her lashes before rolling down her cheeks. "I'm sorry," he apologizes. "I shouldn't have—"

"No, no," she says, opening them again as she shakes her head. "It's… It's nothing I haven't been sitting here considering on my own. Holding him, seeing you hold him, I guess it's a little hard not to consider it." She shakes her head again. "I know I do what I can to hide it, but I'm not young anymore, Steve. I don't know that I even could. Especially not after all of those pills."

"We could try," Steve replies, perhaps a little selfish.

"I know, darling, I know," she says, voice wavering, "but the world hasn't changed since we made our decision. Look at him," Peggy says, meaning Tony, so he does. "Sometime between now and his fifth birthday the algorithm his own father had a hand in will randomly match him to another little boy or girl out there somewhere. And the sweet little dear doesn't even have a clue. He hasn't a single clue that he's just been brought into a world where his life will never truly be his to do with as he pleases. I don't know that I have the heart it would take to tell our child, 'Mother is very sorry, darling, but you will not be allowed to marry for love like I did.' No, I still don't think I would want to bring a child into the world in its present state. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize," Steve tells her as he starts bouncing his feet a little, hoping to calm Tony when he starts to fuss. "You're right. I was just letting my emotions get the best of me. Yeah, it would be nice to have this. But, you're right." Steve sighs and he focuses on the baby in his arms. His little face is scrunching up and down in discomfort as he sucks on his pacifier. "Here's hoping you get somebody wonderful to spend your life with, little guy," he coos to Tony. "Since I don't have any kids of my own, Uncle Steve is going to be there in your corner, kiddo. I can't change the rules, but if you ever need me, I'll be there." Tony stretches and squirms in his arms in answer.

"Uh oh," Peggy says with humor returning to her voice. "He's rooting." Steve furrows his brow before understanding her meaning. "Really, Steve," she teases, "we do need to look into getting you some kind of brassiere."

*

_May 28th, 1991_

"Don't look now, Bruce," Betty practically giggles the words, "but there is an incredibly attractive guy who can't seem to take his eyes off of you."

"Sure there is," Bruce replies flatly.

"Bruce Banner, are you calling me a liar?"

He sighs and glances up from his copy of _Brief History of Time_ to look at her. She coyly bats her eyes to her left and then back to him. Then she drops her head back down to work on her portion of formulas for the project their working on in their summer internship. He knows this could be her idea of a joke, but he's not about to let her go on thinking he thinks she's a liar since goodness knows she'll make a big deal out of it just to get back at him for spoiling her fun.

Bruce hasn't exactly mastered subtlety yet according to Betty so naturally he chooses to turn his head directly to his right, eyes scanning the quad until they find a guy who is certainly attractive and also happens to be… looking directly at him. Bruce panics and looks back at Betty with wide eyes.

"Maybe it's a coincidence?' Bruce reasons. Betty looks up at him archly. "Well, I mean, what other reason would he be looking at me? Maybe he's looking at… at you," he suggest. "He's far away enough and the sun could be creating the illusion—"

Betty cuts him off with a laugh. "Oh, Bruce. How are you ever going to have any fun before your partner assignment if you can't even acknowledge when a hot guy is potentially interested? Hmm?"

"Um, first of all, I'm here to get my doctorate's. That's my first priority since who knows how much time I have left before an assignment could throw a wrench in that."

She can't possibly understand what that feels like since her assignment is in school to be a psychiatrist and more than willing to wait until the last possible minute to marry while they commit themselves to their degrees instead.

He continues, "Second of all, it's me. Hot guys, or girls, don't get interested. Not even potentially."

"Well, he's still looking this way," Betty says, smiling. Bruce furrows his brow when she starts gathering up her things. "And I have a theory that if _I_ were to leave, he'd definitely still be looking at you." Bruce's eyes widen in understanding.

"You're leaving? You can't leave." Bruce panics some more. "Okay, I admit it. I'm not good at interpersonal relationships, but that doesn't mean you should throw me to the sharks. I can't even swim, Betty. Betty!" he pleas for her to stop.

She does stop, turning to look back at him over her shoulder. "Bruce, a hot guy is looking at you. It doesn't take physics to say 'hi' or, 'yes, I would like to hang out.'" Then with a smirk and a wink she says, "The physics comes later."

He watches her walk away, leaving him without a lifeline. He doesn't dare look back in the direction of the stranger right away. He even debates being a coward and following her lead of hightailing it out of there. Instead he sighs and goes back to reading Hawking.

After unsuccessfully reading the same page three times, Bruce finally gives up and turns his head once more in the direction of the attractive guy only to find that he's not there anymore. So much for Betty's theory, he thinks and then firmly tells himself he's not even a little disappointed.

"Can you imagine if we lived in a postmodern world where we won World War II and continued to progress without the 15 years of reconstruction?"

Bruce practically jumps where he sits on the bench of the picnic table and spins around to see the stranger sitting at the other end of the table, his feet on the bench. He has a snow cone now, possibly accounting for where he'd gone, and is focused on it rather than him. His tongue swirls so artfully at the flavored ice that for a second Bruce has the ridiculous thought that perhaps this guy does subtle even worse than he does, before banishing it as his own desperate imagination.

"Um, well," Bruce tries to pick up the thread of conversation based on his random question, "I haven't given it much thought, but—" He glances down at his book and suddenly realizes what was meant by the other young man. "But, you're right," he says. "As much as we've managed to progress since World War II, even with the reconstruction years, it's not hard to imagine maybe we'd be living in a world closer to what Hawking can imagine. Who knows what leaps and bounds we lost. Or what geniuses were never born," he says, but then regrets it as he's reminded of his father's mad rantings about how the fallout from the bombings had mutated him as a little boy and led to his having a freak for a son.

"Guess you and I will have to work doubly hard to make up for it, won't we?" he asks and turns to look at him with a broad smile.

Bruce opens his mouth to reply when he's finally able to take in the stranger's full countenance up close and immediately snaps it shut again. Bruce's eyes widen and Stark's smile widens all the more.

"Name's Tony," he says, hopping off of the picnic table's top and coming over to sit down directly in front of him. "And it's a pleasure to finally meet you, Robert."

Bruce blinks. "Um. You too, I guess," he says. "I mean, not that I guess. It is, but…" He could kick himself for fumbling like he's still thirteen with an impossible celebrity crush on the whiz kid of MIT. "My legal name is Robert. I, I go by my middle name. Which is Bruce."

Tony Stark's eyebrows move upward for a second, surprise on his face, but then his face brightens. "Oh, thank goodness," he says. Bruce furrows his brow. "Because I would have had to call you Rob, or Robby or maybe even Bob and, honestly, you look like none of those. I mean _I_ look more like a Robert than you do. Am I right? I'm right."

"Um—"

"Bruce is… nice. I like Bruce. Bruce definitely suits you."

"Thanks… uh… and Tony suits you?"

Bruce really isn't sure what kind of alternate universe he's fallen into, unless he's dreaming, nor has he ever imagined meeting Tony Stark in such a strange way, but as he eyes the young man across from him he has to admit it's probably because he'd never imagined such a charmingly down-to-earth and eccentric person as this. He's not surprised his imagination didn't do him justice, but he's pleasantly surprised just the same.

He's even more surprised when Stark says, "So, Bruce, do you think you'd like to get dinner or something? Talk some more about Hawking or anything?"

*

_April 24th, 2015_

"Why? Why did we ever agree to let her do this?" Bruce paces through the cabin of the jet as the crew finish prepping it for take-off.

Tony stands up from his seat and moves to stop him during his next turn, taking hold of him gently by his shoulders. "Honey, honey, listen to me," he urges and Bruce's eyes focus on him. "You're panicking and we don't know that we need to panic yet," he reasons, even if his own heart is about to beat out of his chest. "Erik is with her. Phil and Clint too. And, you, you said yourself she's capable."

"That was before anything happened!" Bruce shouts. "I—" His voice breaks and it's followed by a choking sob. "Tony, I'm afraid," he says and immediately Tony wraps his arms around him.

"I'm afraid too, Bruce," he admits. "I'm afraid too."

 *

_October 1985_

"Howard Stark," the teacher says as she places a new slide on the projector.

Bruce glances up from his usual absentminded mathematics to see the picture of one of the richest men in the country, as well as one of the most prominent in shaping industry and policy in the world.

"Howard Stark is the CEO of world-renowned Stark Industries. During World War II he was a pilot and engineer. Most of you know him from your history books as one of the key men behind the transformation of Private Steve Rogers into a national hero known as Captain America. What you may not know is Howard was contracted by the government to work with other scientists on a secret project known as the Manhattan Project."

Bruce knows all about the Manhattan Project since he has a keen interest in nuclear physics. He listens to the teacher's quick description of the project before explaining how the project was aborted in the aftermath of the unexpected atomic attack on many highly populated cities around the world.

"Later Howard Stark would be called upon by the World Security Council to work on Project Insight. While the groundwork for several algorithms and codes were laid during the project's existence, it was there Stark aided in the development of the complex algorithm, often nicknamed DARWIN, now used to match every person with another at a randomly selected date between birth and age five."

The teacher pauses and Bruce continues to listen intently.

"Howard Stark didn't stop there. He has contributed greatly to our revitalization with his engineering endeavors during the Second Reconstruction Period. Stark Industries continues to lead the way in innovation and influence."

The teacher laughs and then changes the slide to a picture of Howard's son. Bruce's stomach goes fuzzy at the picture of the slightly older boy.

"Of course, I'm sure most of you are more familiar with the next generation of Stark Industries. Howard Stark's son Tony Stark has already made headlines for his genius, having already entered college at the age of 15 where he is hard at work on solving the problems of the future. But more importantly, he's just like each of you here."

"None of us are rich and famous," a student points out and Bruce snorts low to himself.

"Well, no," the teacher hedges, "but like you he has an assigned partner courtesy of the genius of his father, Howard Stark."

Bruce holds in a sigh when the teacher removes the slide and moves on to another member of Project Insight. He considers what the teacher has said about Tony Stark. For as long as he's known about the boy genius, Bruce has admired him and maybe been a little bit jealous. Tony must be just about the smartest kid on the planet and people like that about him. He gets to do science whenever he wants and he's already at college.

But Bruce has never thought before about the fact that in spite of that, Tony's own father is greatly responsible for who they'll all be forced to marry and have families with. He suddenly wonders if anyone ever takes out their anger about that on Tony. A shiver runs down his spine. For Tony's sake, he hopes not.

*

_August 1999_

Bruce's eyes widen slowly as he looks over the math worksheet that he'd found Jane scribbling on. Turns out scribbling isn't the right word for it. He isn't even sure how she'd found the old math workbook in the first place, only recognizes it from his early college days, but at the moment he's glad she did. 

"Am I in trouble?" Jane asks softly. Bruce glances down to see her amber-colored eyes wide and doe-like as she looks up at him for his answer. "I know I shoulda asked," she says with a snivel, "but, but it looked like fun." The snivel turns into whimper and she starts to cry before he even confirms her fear.

Bruce quickly sets down the worksheet and pulls the four-year-old into his lap. "No, sweetheart, it's okay," he tells her. "Yes, you should have asked. And you should ask next time," he makes sure not to let her think that isn't still the rule, "but it's okay this time. Promise. If you think it's fun, you can have the book."

Jane's crocodile tears quickly start to subside and her eyes widen. "Really?"

He smiles and pulls away a strand of hair stuck to her wet cheek before tucking it behind her ear. "Yes, really. And maybe we can buy you some more books like this one if you want."

Any remaining distress is immediately forgotten as she bounces up and down in excitement. He chuckles and carefully discards her back in her chair so he can stand to his feet. 

"Do you mind if daddy pulls out this first page?" he asks her carefully, gesturing to the worksheet. "I want to show papa and then put it on the fridge."

"Okay!" 

He carefully rips the page along its perforated edge until he has it completely in hand. He kisses Jane atop her head and says, "Alright. Have fun, but don't forget it's almost time to get ready for bed," he reminds her. She nods.

Bruce moves through the house to find Tony. When he can't find him in any of the usual locations, he asks the AI home system that Tony has started developing over the last year. It's still learning, but there are a few things it can already do like tell him Tony's location. 

"Mr. Stark is in your bedroom closet, sir," the AI, J.A.R.V.I.S. as Tony named him, says.

Bruce furrows his brow. Maybe Tony had decided on a quick shower, as unusual as that is in the evening. 

Bruce makes his way to the master bedroom only to stop sharply as soon as he reaches it. Strewn out on the bed are several outfits and the beginnings of poorly packed luggage, a clear sign that Tony is the one responsible. His head races with thoughts as studies the scene. There aren't any business meetings or conferences that he's aware of and if that were the case there would be a few haphazard outfits in question and not such a large chunk of Tony's wardrobe.

His breath hitches when Tony comes out of the closet with more clothes in his arms. The other man stops for a second, meeting his eyes with a cold look like Bruce has never seen on him. The only emotion is in his eyes and it's an emotion that Bruce can't quite put a name to, at least no name that he has any context for. Tony breaks the gaze and crosses the rest of the way over to the bed before throwing the clothes onto the pile in a way that at least tells Bruce that he's angry.

"Tony," Bruce swallows hard, "what... What's going on? What are you doing?" 

Tony doesn't move back to the closet, rather starts pulling clothes off of the hangers.

"What's it look like? I'm giving you what you want." 

"I don't..." Bruce narrows his eyes, glancing between the clothes and his husband. "Tony, this doesn't make sense."

"Right," Tony snorts bitterly, "because you think you should be the one that has to leave? Yeah, well, maybe that makes more sense, but I'm not going to sit around and wait for you to do the packing and I'm sure as hell not going to let you upheave Jane and take her with you." Tone even more bitter than before he adds, "Since we both know that if the court grants the divorce, they'd give you custody." 

"Divorce?" Bruce chokes on the word as fast as it's expelled from him in surprise. 

Tony gives him a withering look of incredulity. He then reaches for something hidden under the mess he's made and throws it down on top. 

"Did you really think I wouldn't find it?" he asks. "Or did you want me to find it and take the hint, hm?" 

Bruce's eyes widen when he recognizes the brochure for pro bono divorce services. 

"Tony, it's not what you think," he tries to explain as quickly as he can. 

"You realize we're rich and you could spring for the best divorce advocate out there, right?" Tony asks, sounding almost disgusted or insulted by the pro bono aspect.

Because of course Tony would still find a way to be Tony. His absolutely infuriating Tony that he has no mind of divorcing. 

"Look at this," Bruce says, shoving the math worksheet into Tony's space until the other genius has no choice but to take it.

"Jane?" Tony momentarily forgets his mission when he realizes what he's looking at. 

"Jane," Bruce confirms. "We knew she was smart, but look at her attempts to make sense of the numbers. She clearly has a firm grasp on the basic principals of college math, Tony. This is from one of my old workbooks." 

Tony meets his gaze with wide eyes. "This is incredible. What are the chances that our adopted daughter would also be a genius?"

"Astronomical," Bruce replies.

The fact that all adoptions are approved and then assigned, with little information about the child's prior history, Bruce almost wonders who Jane's birth parents were and if maybe the selection hadn't been as random as they'd been led to believe. But that's not really important right now. Making Tony understand the truth is all that matters. 

"And an emphasis on our," Bruce adds. Tony furrows his brow. "Tony, the first thing that came into my mind when I started looking over her work is that I just had to find you and show you. So we could share this." He shakes his head and reaches for the brochure. "This isn't about us. God, Tony. I don't want to divorce you. I'm one of the luckiest men on the planet."

"Then why do you have it?" 

"Because not everyone has what we have. I've been helping Jennifer," he admits, hoping his cousin won't be angry with him for breaking her confidant. "She's having serious issues with John."

"What?" Tony's eyes widen, his mood changing to one of renewed anger of a different kind. "If that _sonofabitch_ has laid a hand on her-"

Bruce raises his hands. "Not that I'm aware of, but she's very unhappy. I don't know what she's going to do, but I found this company," he gestures with the brochure, "and it got me thinking about all of the other people who are in even worse situations than Jen. I, I want to help somehow. If I can."

Tony glances at the brochure, then down at the worksheet and then meets his gaze again. "So you don't want me to leave?"

Bruce throws aside the brochure and surges forward, lips meeting like the most natural thing in the world, like they were always meant to find each other, algorithm or no algorithm. 

"No," he answers, pulling back breathless, "never. Never leave. I never want you to leave."

*

_January 1947, Third Meeting of the World Security Council_

"Howard Stark will now yield to questions and criticisms of Project Insight before we take a recess," the lead Councilman declares.

Steve watches as several delegates stand to their feet around the room. Some begin shouting their questions at the same time. He makes out one very prominent concern shared by several of them.

"Order. We will have order." The delegates go silent again. "Mr. Stark, the floor is yours."

Howard nods. He glances at the room at large. "As I heard the argument of sodomy, I will address that first. I will yield to rebuttal after." He puffs out his chest before continuing, "Yes, the algorithm currently allows for pairings of the same sex. That is, more accurately, the algorithm does not at this time distinguish between male and female when it making random selections.

"Myself and the other members of Project Insight have had many long discussions regarding this over the last six months, since the Council moved for us to begin developing the algorithm. We concluded that it is the only possible way to ensure the preservation of our species.

"I see some skeptical faces. How can there be preservation without progeny? A better question might be, how can there be preservation if we have a boom of males to females or vice versa? Another question might be, how do we prevent a population boom we cannot sustain? If every match were male and female, and if every match were to produce one child, our new society would topple under the burden. We are not Noah with three sons. If our effort is to rebuild and eventually repopulate, we must have safe guards in place."

"Mr. Stark," a delegate shouts, "what you are suggesting is nothing short of eugenics!"

Steve glances at the delegate and then back at Howard. They've both already had this argument a thousand times. He sees the ice in the genius's eyes.

"And with all due respect, fellow councilman," Howard responds, "the task I was given, that you and the majority here voted in favor of, cannot be accomplished without eugenics."

There is a disquieted murmuring throughout the room.

"Already we've held two votes on plans for the reconstruction," he continues. "It has already been unanimously decided that we should do what we can to prevent any more immediate births. It has already been unanimously decided that we are creating this potential algorithm not for our children, but for our children's children. So that their world is more stable than what you and I and our children will likely endure for the next decade or more. So that what we sacrifice to give them does not collapse.

"The very foundation of this new world is wrought with eugenics, councilman. If you abhor the potential for a man to be paired with another man, a woman with another woman, but insist we continue forward with this new world, then all you are telling me is that this is not the form of eugenics you approve of.

"I can go back to the drawing board. I can create an algorithm that will only match a select amount of children born each year. I can have that algorithm assign all other children born with the strictest instructions to be carried out by their parents, those same instructions we have voted on for ourselves to prevent overpopulation. But, tell me, if it is your child or grandchild born to face their entire life alone will you still feel that it is the lesser of two evils?"

A hush comes over the room as Howard finishes his speech. Steve looks around, sees the change in some expressions and the indignation in others. For himself, he would prefer they let humanity take its natural course as it has since the dawn of time, foregoing a global society for a return to smaller civilizations that either survive or fail. But since that fight has already been lost, he is in agreement with Howard. All should be matched or none.

 *

_May 27th, 1991_

Robert Banner.

He stares at the information he's scraped from the DARWIN database. 

In two days Tony will receive his assignment and apparently his name is Robert Banner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's here is literally only a small sliver of what I had planned since it was going to continue to highlight the various moments over the course of the verse set up here. There would have been much more be it from the present arc or from the several years leading up to the present arc (eg Bruce and Tony's early life, how they came to have Jane, how they came to be affiliated with Fury and Co in this verse, etc.).


	10. Les Venguers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First 3000 or so words of a restaurant AU featuring young adult Bruce and Tony, middle-aged Steve, and past Steve/Howard (like, Howard wasn't AS old when he had Tony kind of AU).

"You're kidding?"

Steve looked at Nick and then focused his eyes past him on the young man, dressed like a privileged bully from Wall Street and glancing around the restaurant with an unimpressed air. The resemblance was impossible to miss and he was already familiar with the kid, but that didn't mean Steve had to accept it. He looked back at Nick with narrowed eyes.

"I wish I were," Nick replied, sighing as he did. "I've had legal all over this for the past month and—"

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Steve demanded, crossing his arms. "A little heads up here would have been nice, Nick."

"Yeah, I got that, but to be perfectly damn honest with you I didn't think it would get this far. I hadn't planned on Howard's crazy-ass, iron-clad will."

"By the looks of it neither did he," Steve replied, glancing at the younger man who was now chatting with Darcy, one of Les Venguers' waitresses. Nick snorted.

"Yeah, he seems pretty convinced this is Howard's way of getting back at him for brushing off an attempt to reconcile with him when he was a teen."

Steve frowned. He remembered that. He remembered the conversation that had led to it like it was yesterday, rather than nearly a decade ago.

"I don't understand why Howard would do this."

"That's not exactly rocket science," the young man interjected. Steve's eyes widened when he saw Howard's son now standing a few feet away, leaning against the back of an empty booth. He hitched a shoulder. "My dad was an asshole." Steve frowned harder.

"Your father wasn't perfect, I'll give you that," he started, "but once you got to know him, he really wasn't a bad guy."

"Uh huh," the young Stark toned with no small amount of sarcasm, "and who's fault was it exactly that I didn't get to know him? He had plenty of time to get with the program and stay in my life after mom hightailed it out of there and took me with her. But, hey, nope, he waited until I was the genius teen at MIT."

"That's not—"

"Save it. I don't care if you loved my dad enough to see past his faults. And, you know, I hope he was better to you than he was to my mom." He shrugged as he pushed off the booth to stand up straight. He looked around. "But obviously he wasn't too great if he was willing to turn this place over to me instead of you." He gave him a sharp smile that was just this shy of cruel.

"Now let's not get ahead of ourselves," Nick intervened. "This place doesn't belong to you yet, Mr. Stark. It doesn't belong to anybody yet. That's the whole point here. The will was clear. No inheritance until you've worked here for thirty days. If you bail before then, the deed of the restaurant is to be transferred to Steve Rogers, here. If you manage to make it through the thirty days, you will get your inheritance and the restaurant is yours to do with what you will."

"Either way, Rogers here gets screwed for having faith in my old man," Stark replied with another grin. "So, when do I begin? The sooner we get started, the sooner I can at least have the last laugh at daddy dearest."

Steve tightened his jaw, looked at Nick and then turned his back on them. He took a deep breath, cursed Howard in his head, and then exhaled.

"We open at two on weekdays," he said. "Come back Monday. I don't need the hassle of training you during weekend rush."

"This is a rush?" 

"We haven't opened yet," Steve said and marched back to the kitchen.

*

"Washing dishes? You want me to _wash dishes_?" Tony looked at the older man with all the contempt he could conjure, which was quite a lot at the moment.

Rogers eyed him with a near-equal amount of contempt from where he sat in his office chair. "Look. The will states that I have to employ you for thirty days. It doesn't specify what position I'm to employ you in." He sighed and stood to his feet. "If you cooperate I'll promote you to other positions as we go along so you can get a real understanding of what it takes to make this place operate. Until then, just be glad I didn't assign you to mopping floors or cleaning the restrooms."

"I'm starting to see why you and him got along," Tony accused through gritted teeth. "You're just as much of an asshole as he was."

"Maybe I am," Rogers replied, clearly refusing to be riled up by his goading, "but what's your excuse, Mr. Stark?" Tony's eyes widened. "By your own admission your father wasn't around, so it can't be his influence affecting your attitude. Is it your mother's? Because somehow I doubt that too, at least from the way Howard talked about her. So, essentially, you've managed to become an egotistical asshole all on your own. And it seems to me you're using your anger at your father as an excuse to justify it. Or," Rogers weighed his head from side to side, "you're more like him than you realize, with or without his direct influence. If so, you might want to be careful before you end up just like the man you seem to hate so much."

Tony tried to respond. There were a million things flying through his mind and not a single one of them made it past his lips no matter his effort.

"Are we done here?" Rogers asked him when he still couldn't find his voice. Tony scowled in answer, but it had no effect. Rogers ignored it and said, "Good. Now Clint is waiting to show you how dishwashing works in this kitchen before we open." Tony opened his mouth, finally ready to retort, but Rogers quelled it with a, "Or, if that's unacceptable, you know where the door is."

Tony's eyes widened and then narrowed in the matter of a split-second. So Rogers wanted a war then? Tony was more than willing to give him one.

*

The first plate, Steve bit back a sigh and continued preparation on a special order. As Executive Chef, it wasn't often he got to cook himself and he relished every chance he got. He sometimes missed the days of being a Sous Chef, but at the end of the day having his own restaurant in Brooklyn was a dream come true he didn't regret.

The second plate, he glanced at Clint with a raised eyebrow. Clint just shrugged and continued on in his work as a line cook.

The third plate, and fourth and fifth in quick succession, that shattered to the ground in the dish room brought his work to a halt. He let out the sigh he hadn't before and tensed his jaw.

"Natasha," he called to his Sous Chef, "you may have to finish this."

She nodded and delegated what she was working on to someone else before washing her hands and then coming over. She glanced at the recipe once before starting in on the order.

Steve washed his hands, dried them and then moved to the dishwashing room.

"I'm starting to think you're breaking dishes on purpose, Mr. Stark," he said, standing in the doorway with his arms crossed. "I'm also starting to question the way your mother raised you."

Stark turned quickly on his heel, glaring at him. He tweaked his jaw then glanced to one side. Before Steve could react, the young man grabbed a plate and dropped it to the floor. Steve's arms fell to his sides and he scowled.

"That one was on purpose," Stark said. "Leave my mother out of this."

Steve stood his ground, even if he could admit to himself that Stark had a point. His manners were just as questionable for bringing someone into this not able to defend herself. 

"What seems to be the problem in here then?" he asked instead. 

"The problem is these damn plates are of poor design! You don't have to be an engineer to see that. They're slipperier than a wet dick and these gloves don't do fuck for traction!" He tore both gloves off and threw them into the sink in a display of dramatics.

Steve closed his eyes and rubbed at his forehead.

"First order of business, this is a four-star restaurant. One of the reasons it is a four-star restaurant is because there are rules in place that help prevent customers from complaining about overhearing cooks yelling profane things when they're near the kitchen." He opened his eyes. "So let's keep those wet dicks and fucks to yourself, Mr. Stark."

"What, you have a swear jar or something?" Stark raised an eyebrow.

Steve ignored him and continued, "Second order of business, something tells me you're not handling the dishes properly to begin with. My guess is you hate this job so you're not taking care of what you're doing. We've never had very many issues like this with past dishwashers. So, that tells me it's probably you. Do better at your job, Mr. Stark," Steve said firmly and left the young man to scowl to his heart's content.

An hour later, and a handful more broken dishes, Steve gave in and came up with a new position in the restaurant for Howard's son. He told himself that it was due to fiscal concerns and had nothing at all to do with the fact that Stark's genuine-sounding groans of frustration reminded him of Howard.

*

"Hey, Jane," Bruce said when the younger woman returned to the host podium, after seating a couple of guests.

"Hi, Bruce," she said with a friendly smile. "Punctual as always and not a minute too soon." She glanced around, looking for nearby guests, and then lowered her voice to say, "I don't know _how_ you can stand this for six hours at a time."

"Nine on weekends," he reminded her and she practically groaned.

"I can barely stand it for three. I definitely prefer bussing."

Bruce shrugged and moved to clock in using the small computer in the podium after she clocked out. "Some of us can't afford to complain, I guess." His eyes widened. "Not that I'm saying you're privileged, or, um…"

"Relax, Bruce;" she laughed, "I understand. So how awful were today's lectures?"

"Not as bad as that doozy on Friday," he answered with a dry chuckle.

They both were students at Empire State University. He had classes in the mornings and afternoons and she in the mornings and evenings. Because of this, along with sharing several science classes, Jane was gracious enough to go through the hassle of sharing books with him, reducing the ridiculously high cost for the both of them.

"You won't even need your text book for Selvig," he told her, "but I've finished the next three assignments on the syllabus so you can take it if you want."

"Three? Where do you find the time between all your jobs?" She shook her head. "You know, you should already have three doctorates and be the one lecturing," Jane complimented him. Bruce snorted as he checked the upcoming reservations.

"What a horrible thought," he said. He turned and scanned the tables to see what he'd be dealing with for the start of dinner rush. Then again, maybe teaching wouldn't be much worse than being a host, with no hope for ever being back in the kitchen where he'd rather be.

"Well, I'd better get going," Jane said, sighing. "Have fun. I have the craziest story to tell you," he knew she probably meant regarding an experience with a guest or similar, "so if you're not too dead on your feet stop by my dorm on the way to yours."

He just nodded, knowing that wasn't likely to happen.

She started to walk away, but then stopped and said, "Oh, speaking of crazy, that reminds me. The Stark guy is here and Steve has him training with us to be a host." Bruce's eyes widened. "He's on a dinner break right now so you won't have to deal with him for a little bit, but thought I'd give you the heads up."

"Um, okay, thanks," Bruce fumbled, dumbstruck as he watched Jane finally head back to the kitchen.

They didn't need another host. The hours were split up just right between him and Jane as it was. Was Jane going to move to permanent bussing and Stark take her hosting spot for the thirty days Steve had told him Howard's son would be working with them? Or was Steve going to cut their hours to accommodate Stark? He needed those hours.

He blinked away his concerns when a young couple entered the restaurant and approached the podium.

"Welcome to Les Venguers," Bruce said as hospitably as possible. "How many in your party?"

"Just the two of us," one answered.

"Alright," he said, entering the number into the system, before looking back up at them. "And do you already have a reservation with us this evening?"

"We do. It should be under Lang."

Bruce glanced at the reservations and saw that they were fifteen minutes early. He glanced at the other reservations around theirs and then at the seating before deciding there was room to seat the two-top early.

"Yes, I see your reservation right here," he told them, selecting it and entering them into the system. He then smiled and said, "Right this way." He led them to a table for two in Darcy's station. "Your server's name is Darcy and she'll be with you very shortly. In the meantime, if you have any questions or concerns, I'm more than happy to help you."

"I think we're good," was the response.

"Alright, enjoy your time with us," Bruce replied and then started back toward the podium.

"Bruce," Steve stopped him as he passed the kitchen, "tell Peter to cover the podium for a moment and then come back to my office."

Bruce nodded and followed his instructions, although not without first seating another party of guests that had wandered in while he'd been seating the Lang party. He was well aware that Steve meant to talk to him about what Jane had told him. He wasn't sure if he was eager to get the bad news over with or not.

"This will just take a few moments, Bruce," Steve said when he entered his office. "Howard's son Tony will be training with you the next few days to see if he's got what it takes for a host position. I'll count on you for a full report on how he's doing."

"Yes, sir," Bruce said, trying to figure out a calm, but confident way of asking about his hours. "And if he does well?" Steve gave him a warm smile so at least he didn't seem angry at what he was clearly implying with his question.

"Well, the way I see it, if you can train him well, then maybe we can talk about finally giving you a promotion to commis. If you're interested."

Bruce's eyes grew wide and his mouth parted. He was grateful he didn't actually squeak, as surprised as he was.

"I—I'm… Yes. I mean, I'd be interested," he fumbled through his response, but Steve merely gave a soft chuckle.

"I figured you might."

*

Tony glanced at his watch and rolled his eyes upon seeing the time. His insanely short meal break was over and he had to get back to standing on his feet pretending to be friendly to the entitled patrons there to be served. He didn't want to be late because this was at least better than dish duty and it was easy enough so far. And he wasn't about to lose the war already.

So, with a small groan for good measure, he clocked back in and made his way towards the host podium at the front of the restaurant. He was about five or so feet away when he came to a sharp stop. He had forgotten that Jane had said he would be training with someone else because her shift was almost over, mostly because he hadn't really been paying very close attention. Still, he was pretty sure she hadn't said anything about that someone being sex on legs in the male form. Sure, he hadn't seen the other guy's face yet, but with a backside that looked like _that_ in the fitted penguin suit required of the position, Tony was willing to bet a good amount of money the face was at the least tolerable.

"If you'll follow me this way," the host said. His voice was deep and soft but not without a certain kind of edge Tony couldn't put his finger on.

Then he turned, gesturing to the patrons he was about to show to a table, and he caught a glimpse of a profile that was already more than tolerable. Tony tracked his movement across the restaurant. The guy didn't seem at ease in his role, leading the way without the manner of confidence Jane had, but he still carried himself politely enough. Proving Tony's estimate further, the host kept his head down when he turned to make his way back.

Tony took the small opportunity to consider the wavy hair resting atop the host's head. It looked like the kind of hair Tony could enjoy running his hands through. If he had any sudden whims or fantasies about the matter, they were dashed just as suddenly when the host's head finally lifted all the way.

Whatever Tony had been expecting, it didn’t match the actual thing. It wasn't the kind of face you had a casual fuck or two with. It was the kind of face with hard lines blanketed by soft edges. It was the kind of face you want to see in all kinds of lighting, in all kinds of moods, and then go on seeing it even long after you've memorized every expression. It was the kind of face that spelled danger, the kind of face Tony Stark avoided, the kind of face he had never seen its equal or greater.

Said face had taken notice of him, the brown eyes blinking owlishly back and damning Tony further. Maybe he should walk out of the restaurant and let Rogers have his victory. Tony had enough money between his mother and his bright future as a genius engineer. He didn’t need any further inheritance. He certainly didn't need a restaurant. He could leave without a single introduction to the – Handsome? Cute? Hot? Adorable? – owner of that face and save himself.

But then the face spoke, "Uh, you… You must be Tony."

Tony was too fucking weak to proceed to the nearby exit – and let the record show that Tony Stark is a lot of things, but a coward isn't one of them – and found himself extending his hand instead, glad he could recall the name Jane had supplied him with.  

"And you must be Bruce." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cue restaurant trope hijinks such as Tony pissing off a food critic, Bruce being a SURPRISE! super good cook, misunderstandings, etc.


	11. Live To Rise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few excerpts from a WIP that I started as a fit request birthday present in 2015 and currently stands at 30,000 words with little chances of being finished/published unless I were to go in and change a good chunk of it. Essentially, it was a Tony has a kid with Pepper alternate first Avengers au, where Pepper died in Iron Man 2, but I went through a period of 1. feeling bad in a way I never did when I killed off Betty (sorry Betty) and 2. I kept stalling in the writing process. 
> 
> But hey if MCU can (do I still need spoiler tag here?) kill off Tony after he's got a kid then fuck it I'm going to be savage and post a little bit of this and maybe even finish this sucker (or rewrite it/something similar with Morgan because fuck it I'm feeling savage I'm telling you).

**Excerpt from Tony's introduction at the start of the story**

 

Suited up as Iron Man, Tony finished his task below the surface of the East River, disconnecting transmission lines and routing the city's electrical supply, and then shot up into the night sky. A spray of water soared with him before falling back into the river like a fountain. He flew back toward the middle of Manhattan on a singular mission.

"Good to go on this end," Tony said to his partner on the project. "You're up, Dr. Foster."

Dr. Jane Foster, the astrophysicist, had been hired on at Stark Industries at the suggestion of Agent Coulson six months earlier, after her mentor Dr. Erik Selvig had been called away by SHIELD elsewhere. Tony had a pretty good idea that SHIELD wanted Dr. Foster where they could keep an eye on her now that she was connected to the incident in New Mexico – something Stark only knew the gist of from his recruitment package as a consultant for SHIELD, a role he had most definitely turned down since he'd stopped being Iron Man as a public figure.

Tony was more than a little suspicious as to why SHIELD wanted Jane watched in the first place, why Coulson thought his company was a good place for that to be so, and why Selvig had been called away to something Foster alluded seemed very dark shadow. That suspicion had given him a reason to humor the request, but it had worked out in his favor as Dr. Foster wasbrilliant.

"We're off the grid!" The bubbly, but feisty, young woman cheered over the communicator.

Whatever the reasons for Coulson's suggestion regarding Jane Foster, she had come to be a valuable asset to the company and had enough genius to help lead the research and development side of arc reactor technology for the purpose of clean energy.

If he were allowing himself to be sentimental, she had also come to be a good friend he was grateful for. He might even admit he was also grateful, begrudgingly, for Foster's annoying former intern who had somehow weaseled her way in as his new personal assistant.

"This is it, ladies," he started, feeling the culmination of his rise back from the dead over the previous hellish year.

"Assuming the arc reactor actually works," Darcy Lewis, aforementioned personal assistant, chirped in that fresh-out-of-college-and-it-shows sarcastic tone of hers from somewhere off the HUD, and obviously using a comm of her own without permission as clear as she sounded.

"I didn't give you access to this link," Tony admonished her, though his chastisements never went anywhere. Honestly, her flippant attitude was a strange balm.

"Ignore her," Jane said with an eye roll as he neared 5thAvenue. "Ready when you are, boss."

"Pepper Potts Memorial Tower is about to become a beacon of self-sustaining clean energy," Tony said, biting back the wave of emotion at the mention of the remarkable woman who had come up with the project in the first place. "Light her up," he said, voice tight.

Jane hit a switch and Tony watched, tears brimming in his eyes, as the tower began to light up slowly from the ground to pinnacle. STARK illuminated the side of the building.

Tony knew it would still be referred to by the media and general public as Stark Tower, as that had been what it was before the remodel and how Pepper herself had intended to sell the project to the crowds at Stark Expo, and he hated that immensely. But the plaque on the building and memorial museum inside would hopefully be the reminder that all of this had been made possible by the pioneering woman who would have changed the face of Stark Industries had she had the chance that was ripped from her. When she was ripped away from him—

"How does it look?" Jane asked, breaking through Tony's bittersweet reverie. He couldn't fault her when he glanced up into the corner of his HUD to see she was bubbling with excitement, having eagerly taken on this project like her own adopted child.

"It's beautiful," Tony answered reverently. At one point in his life he might have felt like it was a monument built to his ego, like how Pepper had once referred to the Stark Expo. Some in the media and naysayers were already taking potshots at him in such a manner, but he knew the truth. "It's beautiful like she was," he added more sentimentally, although the building would never compare.

"I’m sure it is," Jane said gently, reverence in her voice as well.

"Not to kill the moment," Darcy interrupted, but she hadn't done so immediately so he knew she didn't actually want to kill the moment, "but as your totally competent assistant, I should remind you that you're looking at a lot of press in the coming week. It's already trending on Twitter."

"Of course it is," Tony replied cheekily as he descended onto the landing pad of the tower.

There was a walkway he had constructed specifically to remove his armor piece by piece in the same way his armor pad did back in Malibu; only this one could do so without his even needing to break a stride. Although he didn't suit up often, lest it was for projects such as this one, he figured it never hurt to have a convenient way of taking off his suit when he did.

"Sir, Agent Romanoff of SHIELD is on the line for you," JARVIS told him.

"I'm not in," Tony said as the suit disassembled all around him. "I'm actually out," he added jokingly.

"Sir, I'm afraid she's insisting," JARVIS said.

Tony elected to ignore it with a witty deflection as he entered the office and entertaining space of his penthouse apartment. Instead Tony's attention went straight to the dark haired, blue eyed boy that Darcy held.

She waved his arm for him. "Is daddy back? Say hi to daddy." Darcy said in a kiddy voice. She let go of his arm and the boy waved on his own, although the hand waved towards himself instead. "Say, give Aunt Darcy a raise."

"Stop patronizing my child," Tony told her as he stopped in front of her. Edwin smiled and lunged forward in Darcy's arms toward Tony. He smiled wide and took his son from her. "Oh, you're getting too heavy already. Take it from your ol' man and lay off the bottle…or, well, sippy-cup," he joked as he kissed Edwin's forehead.

"Hi," Edwin said belatedly and Tony smiled again.

"Hi, yourself," he said and then moved to stand next to Jane where she was monitoring the tower on a holographic screen.

"Levels are holding steady," she said cheerfully, taking a moment to pinch Edwin's cheek gently. He smiled shyly at the attention and Tony chuckled a little.

"Not surprised given the amount of genius in the room," Tony said, watching as Edwin reached to play with the holographic screen, eyes brightly curious.

"That?" Edwin asked.

"That is a reading of the arc reactor power," Tony explained, even if he knew he didn't understand.

"Power," Edwin echoed just the same and Tony beamed.

"That's my boy. He knows what that word means."

"His ego will probably end up bigger than yours," Jane teased.

"So, are we geniuses going to toast this or what?" Darcy quizzed from behind them. Tony turned to see her holding a champagne bottle and three flutes.

"What do you mean _we_?" He asked playfully. "Excluding JARVIS, the third genius in the room is still teething."

"Haha," she countered dryly and began pouring the three glasses anyway. "I'll have you know, I was top of my class at Culver, which is not an easy school to get into let me tell you. And it's well known for its science programs and smart people and—"

"And then there's poli sci," Tony said breezily as he came over to grab one of the flutes off of the table.

Darcy huffed, but didn't argue any further. She took the other two flutes and handed one to Jane as she joined them. They stood around solemnly for a moment. Tony knew that they both knew the meaning of this project, what it meant for the future of Stark Industries, and how it was just the starting point of Pepper's vision.

"To Virginia Potts," Tony said with a soft, broken smile. He kissed Edwin's forehead again and lifted his glass. "And to her legacy."

They all took a small drink when the elevator opened with a ping, causing them all to turn and see the fiery haired SHIELD agent that entered.

"I'll drink to that," Natasha said, sauntering into the space, SHIELD file in hand. "Or I would if I wasn't on the clock."

"Security breach," Tony cried dramatically, Edwin squealing in his arms at the excitement. He pointed at Darcy. "I'm blaming you."

"Hey!" she protested behind him as he moved toward Natasha.

"How did you even hear what we were toasting to?" He looked at her suspiciously.

Natasha returned the look with a thin smirk. "You really have to ask that question? I've been monitoring the entire conversation since I called." She grabbed the flute from his hand and downed the rest of it quickly. "Technically you're on the clock too so now we're even."

"Um, excuse me? What do you mean I'm on the clock?" Tony asked in disbelief as he held up his free hand to avoid her trying to return the flute to him. She rolled her eyes and handed it to Darcy instead.

"You're feeding him too much, Stark," Natasha ignored his questions and abducted his son from his arm, quickly replacing Edwin with the SHIELD file before he could protest. "Does daddy want you to get fat like him?" she asked him playfully and Edwin giggled like a traitor.

Tony scowled as he looked between Natasha fawning over Edwin, in her unique way of fawning over children, and the file he now held. He opened it and looked at it dubiously.

"The Avengers?" He read aloud, tone just as dubious. "I thought the Initiative was scrapped. And even if I had wanted the job, I thought I didn't qualify," he reminded her, as if she needed it as it was her suggestion.

She looked away from Edwin to frown at him. "Not recommended, Stark. There's a difference."

"Oh, right, sure," Tony dismissed as he moved over to his desk to look at the digital files the brief came with. "So you were fine getting your hands on my tech for your own purposes with or without me? As if everyone trying to get their hands on my tech isn't what led to Pepper's sacrifice in the first place," he snapped, looking at her across the room.

She flinched and looked down at Edwin for a brief moment with an expression that made him regret the insinuation. Edwin eyed her curiously and babbled something indistinct before patting her on her chest. Natasha closed her eyes and when she opened them again the expression passed. She smiled at Edwin and carefully handed him off to Jane before coming over to stand beside Tony.

"You weren't recommended at the time, Tony," she said evenly. "I was just doing my job and telling Fury that while Iron Man would be an asset, there was no way you could do it. You had just lost Pepper, you had Edwin to think about, you had a company to start managing again, and _you_ were on the verge of a meltdown."

Tony bit his lip and fretted with the folder until she placed a hand on one of his. He looked at her, seeing the Natasha he'd gotten to know in the past year and not the act she had put on what felt like a lifetime before. Underneath the agent she did seem to care and even if it were to turn out to be just another act he would have to admit he was fooled by it.

He sighed. "This is a ridiculous argument. I turned the job down, remember? Nothing you just said matters. I'm not Iron Man." He lifted the brief in question "So why are you here with this?"

"Fury needs you to come in," Natasha answered. 

"Just like that?" Tony raised an eyebrow, but returned his attention to the files. "He just expects me to put on the suit, fly in and… do what exactly?"

"It's serious, Tony," Natasha lowered her voice to a mumble. "There was a SHIELD facility that imploded on itself. A dark shadows project that—"

"Dark shadow?" Tony paused the movement of his hands and he looked at her. He then looked past her at Jane and Darcy. "The one Selvig was on?" He pitched his voice louder so that the other two women could hear. Naturally, they hurried over.

Natasha gave him a sharp look. "It's all there in the file including Selvig's notes about what he was working on the past eight months."

" _Was_?" Jane asked, handing Edwin over to Darcy. Tony had come to know that fiery indignation well. She was about to stare Natasha down and demand answers.

"He was compromised," Natasha gave in with surprising speed. "Brainwashed or something. His mind was taken over… along with another agent."

Tony furrowed his brow at the slight change that came over her before deciding enough was enough. He quickly piped the files all at once to display around them on individual holographic screens. There was a roar and Tony's head turned left, eyes falling on Dr. Robert Bruce Banner and the footage of his alter ego the Hulk.

"Hey, that's the thing from Culver," Darcy said in surprise.

Tony turned to look at her over his shoulder, noting an uncharacteristic shiver from Natasha out of the corner of his eye, and saw Edwin staring at the footage in obvious fascination, his blue eyes big and round and mouth agape. Tony looked back at Banner's files, reading over them quickly, before looking at the others again.

"Not a thing," he corrected her. "Just wish someone would have told me sooner."

"Now's your chance to apologize," Natasha said and Tony looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "Fury wants you to take a team and go bring him in."

"Me?" Tony nearly sputtered. "The guy who actively helped design weapons to take him down?"

She shrugged. "You're both geniuses and you'll both be needed in locating the Tesseract. I would go," she started, but he got the impression she didn't want to, "but Fury figures if anyone can convince him, it'd be you. You have the most to lose going to bring him in. And—"

"Big enough guns to subdue him if things turn green?" She shrugged again.

"Loki," Jane said with a sharp intake of breath, interrupting their conversation.

"Yes, Dr. Foster," Natasha said, turning to her. "Which is why we need to move you to a secure SHIELD facility. Both of you," she said, glancing at Darcy. "We can't take any chances that this isn't another grudge match. He may come looking for you."

"That's ridiculous!" Jane protested. "I can read Erik's files. Already scanning them I can see he was working on clean energy, which I have been too for the past six months. And he was working with portals. I can help you."

"You would be a liability, Dr. Foster," Natasha countered. "You're asking us to paint a target on your back and that's no help to us."

"As much as I'd love to see who's going to win this battle," Tony interrupted, glancing over at Darcy and Edwin as he did, "I need to know what you expect me to do with Eddy. He sure as hell can't tag along if I fly off to do whatever it is you expect me to do."

"Same deal," Natasha replied evenly. "He goes with them."

"For the record," Darcy said, raising her hand minutely away from Edwin, "I'm fully okay with the secure facility option."

Tony sighed and looked at Edwin. He started squirming in Darcy's arms and reaching for him. Tony wasted no time in pulling him into his arms and holding him close. Tony turned to let him look at the looping footage of Hulk again while he smoothed his thin, brown hair and considered the dilemma.

"That?" Edwin pointed eagerly at Hulk and then looked up at him with his wide, inquisitive eyes.

Tony couldn't keep from smiling at his innocence. "What is that?" he repeated the question.

"Yeah, is that?" Edwin repeated back and looked at the screen again. Tony followed his gaze, but his eyes settled on the picture of Dr. Banner instead.

"That is a Hulk. And daddy is going to go find the nice, hopefully very forgiving, man in that picture," he pointed and Edwin looked. "Darcy, contact Happy. You and Eddy are both going to that facility regardless if Jane accompanies you." He turned to look at her. "I want Happy with you as an extra precaution," he said matter-of-factly and she nodded, rushing off to comply. He looked pointedly at Natasha next. "And I need to know there's a way I can be updated on his safety at all times. In fact, I want JARVIS to have access to the facility so he can monitor them. Not a request."

Natasha looked at Edwin for a moment and then nodded. "Understood." She returned her attention to Jane. "But you're not going."

"Daddy go?" Edwin mumbled. Tony looked to see him staring at him with a sad furrow of his small brow. He also looked like he was on the verge of getting fussy. Not only was it getting near his bedtime, it probably had something to do with the mood of the room and his understanding that Tony was leaving.

Tony walked with him over to the couch and sat him down beside him. Tony looked down at his other side and grabbed the teddy bear that sat there. He snuggled Edwin with it before letting it go when the boy wrapped his arms around it.

"Yeah, champ," Tony said with a sigh. "Daddy has to go bye-bye for a little while."

 

**Excerpt from later in the lab on board the Helicarrier; Tony and Bruce have ofc already started bonding**

 

"Alright, that should do it," Bruce stated matter-of-factly as he adjusted his glasses slightly and looked at the screen. "With the new parameters, the algorithm should be able to track the Tesseract within a two-mile radius."

He looked up then at Tony with what he could only describe as an eager smile. He looked like the cliché metaphor of a kid in a candy store or maybe less cliché kid who has just gotten his first volcano model to erupt perfectly. It struck him acutely as to why that was the case.

"Want to do the honors?" Bruce asked him, gesturing toward the screen to press enter and get the tracker running.

Tony smiled and moved around so to stand beside him. "You know, I feel a little like I shouldn't be stealing this moment from you seeing as you've done all the heavy lifting and it's probably been a while since you've gotten to, well, do something like this," he said half-joking, half-serious.

"I suppose we could always be ridiculously juvenile and press it at the same time," Bruce replied with a snort.

"I love being ridiculously juvenile. So shall we?"

Bruce chuckled, but shrugged as if to say why not and they both tapped a finger to the screen at the same time.

Tony turned his head sideways to look at Bruce and Bruce did the same in near-sync. The physicist was still smiling almost in a careless sort of way that became him. This close, Tony could see the dark flecks in his brown eyes beyond the lens of his glasses. He could see the wisps of his slightly salted pepper hair and he could see the lines of his face and the shape of his lips in a way that allowed him to make a better study of them all. Tony wasn't one to quibble when he found a person attractive and he certainly found Bruce attractive, from his face to the shape of his body. But this close Tony could also feel the obvious connection between them stronger than before. He couldn't quite put his finger on the reason, beyond their both being intelligent, but it was there and it was the kind of feeling he wanted to chase. So much so that it surprised him more than a little.

"I feel like I'm back in undergrad," Bruce said with a small snort, the first not only to look away but move away as well.

"Let me guess," Tony didn't have to even use his brain on this one having been in the situation firsthand, "it was the first time you met people who didn't treat you like the elephant in the room because you were smart?"

Bruce paused. He didn't turn, but he nodded enough for Tony to see it. "Sorry," he then apologized needlessly. "Didn't mean to make it weird."

"Weird?" Tony scoffed and moved toward another part of the lab aimlessly. "You're kidding right? That was definitely a magical bonding moment." Bruce turned quickly to look at him, face bemused. "I'm already brainstorming what our friendship bracelets should look like." He moved his fingers around one another in a wheel motion. "Yours will obviously need to be made with an elastic polymer of some sort that can expand and contract without breaking. Also, what do you think about the term science bros? That way people can refer to our awesomeness collectively."

"Uh… I…" Bruce suddenly looked the part of the shy kid who couldn't believe the most popular guy in school was talking to them and Tony couldn't help but smirk a little at the analogy. "I'm not sure…" He licked his lips and looked down as he removed his glasses. "That is I can't say I'm in the habit of having opinions on things like, well, like that. But, uh…" He looked back up. "I think you might be getting a little ahead of yourself."

"I usually do," Tony replied flippantly.

"Of course, but I'm not… I'm not exactly someone you want to be friends with, Tony," Bruce said with so much self-deprecation that Tony was fairly certain if Bruce was a plant he would have just wilted right there on the spot. "Even if I wasn't dangerous," he added with a sigh.

"Wow." Tony looked him over. "Yeah, that settles it. We're definitely getting friendship bracelets." Bruce blinked his eyes in a widening fashion and stepped back on his heel a little as if truly startled. "You're not getting rid of me now, Big Guy. I already wanted to be your friend, but the surest way to make me want something more is to tell me it's something I don't want or need."

"So essentially you're a spoiled brat?" Bruce lifted one eyebrow. Tony laughed.

"You nailed it. So I'm thinking purple for your bracelet because I've gotta say, that color definitely works on you." Bruce ducked his head at that and very subtly looked at his shirt. "Or maybe mine should be purple," he said, squinting his eyes. "Oh well, we can figure out the logistics later."

"Genius, meet insanity," Bruce deadpanned.

"Yeah, I crossed that line a long time ago and never looked back," Tony said with a flap of his hand as he made for the main screen in the lab.

Tony accessed JARVIS' live camera feed of the facility where Edwin and Darcy were. He studied the multiple cameras carefully until he found his son and expanded that camera to a full screen stream. There was no audio, but he smiled at the sight of him playing with large construction blocks in what appeared to be a makeshift playroom with several toys and play sets. He hopped up on the nearby workbench and began to cyber stalk his own kid.

"He must be somewhere that's pretty far ahead of us time wise," Bruce pointed out casually. Tony turned to see him standing near enough that he could easily see the footage as well. "Or else the travel messed with his circadian rhythm and he wouldn't sleep."

Tony snorted. "That's possible. But he already seems to have my horrible sleeping habits no matter how much I try to keep a routine with him." Tony then looked back at the screen with a soft scowl. "Then again I can't say I'm exactly a genius when it comes to this particular subject. I'm a little worried about all the things I've screwed up over the past year that will come back to burn him later. The things I'm going to keep screwing up." Bruce moved to stand beside the workbench and Tony saw his frown from the corner of his eye.

"That seems a little absurd. You clearly love him. That’s more than some kids can say about their dads." Tony turned his gaze to look at him in concern. Drunkard asshole of a father was practically a ten chapter preface when it came to Bruce Banner's SHIELD file.

“That's a nice sentiment,” Tony said intentionally and once again moved his eyes to the screen. “But I'm not sure you get an A for effort when it comes to fatherhood. I can literally master any subject with enough time, but what good does it do if I can't figure out how to take care of the one thing I can't live without, you know?”

“Tony, you don't have to be perfect or even a genius to be a good dad.”

“Well, maybe you're right.” Tony shrugged. He wasn't convinced, but there was no point beleaguering.

So instead there was a moment of silence between them. They just stayed in place watching the feed.

Finally Bruce said, “Not sure about sleep habits, but it does look like somebody got his dad's engineering know-how.” Tony beamed.

“Oh yeah. Those things are lame compared to the building toys he's got at home." Bruce gave a soft snort as if to say _of course_. “I can tell from here he's not even challenged.”

“Tony Stark is a good father, Exhibit A,” Bruce quipped. “So, uh, what's his name? If you don't mind my asking.”

“Why would I mind?” Tony shifted his direction a little on the workbench and looked at him strangely.

"Well, I…" Bruce seemed caught off guard by the confrontational question. "I assumed your son is something you keep more private. I think if you didn't I'm sure I would have at least heard of him even in Kolkata. And he wasn't mentioned in the dossier."

"Right." Tony nodded. "Yeah, that's true. Most people stateside know I have a kid, but it's definitely not something advertised. Some rag mags think he's a stage prop." Bruce raised his brows at that. "I keep his face out of the papers and magazines quite literally at all costs for his own protection, whether because he's Tony Stark's son or Iron Man's. He's too young to have that burden. Frankly, so am I," he semi-joked.

“Exhibit B,” Bruce interjected quickly.

“Okay, okay. Point taken,” Tony waved him off. “His name is Edwin. Edwin James.”

“Edwin,” Bruce repeated in a considering tone. “That's not a common name, but it's nice.”

“Thanks. He's named after someone who was pretty special to me.” Tony looked back at the screen.

Before Bruce could respond Darcy came onto the screen and attempted to play with Edwin, picking up a block only for the boy to quickly yank the block back greedily. Tony scratched at his cheek a little and grimaced as it was clear his son was saying some variation of 'mine' to Darcy.

"Yeah, he's not big into sharing at the moment," he said and Bruce gave a small huff of a laugh.

"Wait, did she just…?" Bruce then asked in disbelief, pointing slightly, in reference to the way Darcy had yanked the block right back and stuck her tongue out at Eddy. Tony hang his head dramatically and shook it.

"Uh, yes. She did just." He then straightened again and hopped off the bench. "That's Darcy though."

He shrugged and stared intently at the screen as Edwin cried over Darcy taking the block back. He knew he was fine and already he could tell by the way her mouth moved rapidly that Darcy was trying to explain the situation to Edwin and soothe him both, but there was still a part of Tony that hated to be privy to his son's tears without any way of being there himself. So he quickly got rid of the feed and busied his mind with checking on his decryption program instead.

He could tell Bruce wanted to say something and was debating whether or not it was appropriate. He wished the man wouldn't act like he needed to walk on eggshells, but he reminded himself of all the reasons he might be prone to do so. As crazy as it seemed, he really _did_ intend to help the man get over that if he could. At the very least he _was_ going to be a friend because Bruce more than deserved one and because already he seemed like the kind of guy Tony wanted as a friend.

"This must be hard for you," Bruce finally said.

There was so much weight in his words and tone that Tony couldn't stop from turning to look at him. The other man wasn't even looking at him. He was looking down at the watch on his left wrist as he fiddled with it like it was a nervous tick – just one of many Tony had noticed. Tony bit the corner of his bottom lip as he studied him.

"Uh, yeah, guess you could say that. I haven't really left him for much more than a day in the past year," Tony replied lowly. "And definitely not under the present circumstances." Tony tried to keep his voice even, but it was a little difficult. Bruce must have heard his struggle because he looked up at him with a gentle concern, but Tony didn't miss the unspoken questions in the other man's eyes. Tony took a deep breath. "I guess you could say it hasn't been easy since… well, since…" He closed his eyes.

"I think I understand," Bruce said gently. "And I'm sorry for your loss. I'm certain Pepper Potts was an extraordinary woman." Tony opened his eyes in surprise to see Bruce looking around as if afraid to meet his eyes after being forward. "I… I just assumed," he continued with a careful regard. "One article mentioned the name of Stark Tower as The Pepper Potts Memorial Building. You became especially angry when Steve was disrespectful. And-and you haven't mentioned a wife or girlfriend being there with this Miss Lewis and your son." He shrugged weakly. "I guess you could be separated or something…"

There was a long moment of silence as Tony wrestled with his pain and the sore subject that Pepper was and his desire to share that raw chapter of his life with the man standing a few feet away from him. When he didn't answer, Bruce looked back at him in clear worry and he looked ready to retreat into himself as he shuffled his feet a little and wrung his hands.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "It's none of my—"

"She was perfect," Tony said, making up his mind and taking the other man by surprise. "It took me years to realize it. Took this cluster of shrapnel in my chest and barely escaping death and months of torture to figure it out," he said, angry at himself. "Once I got with the program, it was pretty much a whirlwind from there. I have a bit of a habit of going from zero to sixty once I figure out what it is I want."

"Like shutting down the manufacturing of weapons?" Bruce asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, something like that." Tony nodded. "With Pepper I decided from then on out that I wouldn't waste more time. I wanted to make up for all the time I'd lost, all the time I almost didn't get back." His voice broke against his will and he looked down. "But even then we ended up having only a few years and now…" He sighed sharply. "Now it's all I can do not to think about all that time I _did_ waste chasing nothing instead of what I could have had all along."

"I'm not really sure there's anything I can say to that," Bruce responded after a moment and Tony met his solemn gaze. "Losing someone you love is…" He shook his head, eyes darting here and there. "Well, it never really leaves you. But clearly what you did have together was worth it just the same," he added then. "I'm sure if you could change things to make them better you would, but not if—"

"Not if it meant not having Eddy is what you mean?" Tony filled in the blanks and Bruce hitched a shoulder. A soft, sad smile touched Tony's lips. "Yeah, I guess that's true," he admitted. "And I know it would be what she'd want. It's what she would feel if it had been me instead." He sighed again. "I just wish…"

Bruce sighed as well and there was something akin to empathy there. Tony wondered who the other man had lost. And then he realized he had no one waiting for him when they undoubtedly defeated Loki and honestly had no reason to be there other than a poor attempt at self-preservation that it was clear he wasn't even counting on.

In spite of his own troubles and obvious loneliness, Bruce said, "I wish that too, Tony."

 

**And then an excerpt from much much much later - like a potential sequel later lol, wherein Betty has reentered the picture (thanks to Tony trying to be a good bro and all) only that changes in this excerpt...**

 

Tony glanced over at Edwin with a small chuckle when the boy laughed hysterically as if it was his first time watching his current favorite movie rather than the millionth – maybe not millionth, but it felt like it. He was curled up on the other end of the couch with the pillow pet that now went just about everywhere with him, a birthday gift from their favorite physicist.

Tony's smiled turned soft and his thoughts wandered to Bruce…who was a few floors down having a special dinner with Betty. He shook his head and looked back at his tablet. He noticed the time and decided he and Edwin should probably eat something too. If nothing else it would be a decent distraction.

"You hungry, Eddy?" Tony asked his son as he considered what they might have, setting aside the tablet as he did. "Pops is hungry. What sounds good? Maybe some fish?"

Edwin immediately pushed himself up a little and protested with a firm, "No!"

Tony laughed. "Relax, champ. We're not getting fish. Although I'll teach you the joys of crab and lobster one of these days when you're old enough." Edwin gave him a blank look. "Okay, how about—"

"Mac cheese," Edwin suggested before he could finish.

"Buddy, you had mac and cheese for lunch," Tony reminded him. "Remember? With the turkey hot dog?"

Edwin nodded once very slowly, pouting a little in obvious realization that what dad really meant was no to the macaroni and cheese. Tony lifted his mouth to the right side of his face and narrowed his eyes at the toddler.

"We need to work on expanding your palate," he said with a shake of his head. "Alright, let's make a deal," he said and moved down the couch until he was sat by his son. "How about we order something you've never tried before and I make you a little mac and cheese on the side, hmm?" He patted him softly on his small knee. "That sound like a square deal?"

Edwin twisted up his face comically in a thoughtful look, no doubt in an imitation of the way others looked when they were considering something. "Mmmmmm," he gave a long hum. "Mac cheese?"

" _And_ something new," Tony reiterated to get the concept across.

"Ok, new," he said with a single bob of his head.

"That's my boy," Tony praised him.

Just then the elevator to the penthouse pinged and Tony looked over at it, still smiling, until his brain caught up with him and he realized only a few other people had immediate access to his private elevator and none of them should be inclined to pay him a visit at the moment. Least of all the man who was supposed to be celebrating an anniversary.

"Bruce?" Tony blinked in confusion, smile faltering.

"Buce!" Edwin cheered beside him and rolled off the couch awkwardly to toddle over to the physicist.

"Yeah, we also need to work on those R's," Tony mumbled in slight amusement. He then noticed the way Bruce seemed overwhelmed with relief as he knelt down and practically scooped Edwin into a hug. "Everything okay?" Tony stood to his feet and walked over toward him.

"Yeah, just," Bruce said, still hugging Edwin, "JARVIS said you needed my immediate assistance with Edwin and for a moment I thought something had happened."

"Oh," Tony said with a nod and then his brain caught up with him again. "Wait, what are you talking about? I never asked for assistance with anything." Bruce let go of Edwin then and looked up at him in confusion. "Hey, Eddy, go finish your movie while daddy talks to Bruce, okay? And then you and me can have dinner."

Edwin looked up at him, clearly processing what had been instructed. Then Tony watched him as he went back over to lean restlessly against the couch rather than get back up on it. Tony then shifted his focus back to Bruce as he stood back up straight.

"What's this about JARVIS?" Tony asked him.

"He told me that you were in need of assistance. And he implied that it had to do with Eddy," Bruce explained. "Naturally I was a little concerned and so I came up here to find out. But you both seem fine."

"Uh, maybe because we are?" Tony looked at him skeptically. He then became teasing. "Look, Brucey, if you're having anniversary jitters I understand, but you probably shouldn't make up reasons to ditch Betty."

Bruce scowled minutely. "What do you mean make up reasons? Tony, I know exactly what happened. How do I know you didn't make up some reason to interrupt my dinner with Betty? Do you know how worried I was for a minute?"

"What?" Tony looked at him seriously then. "Why would I do that?"

_Besides the obvious_ , he didn't add.

Bruce shrugged.

"I've supported you from day one with Betty. What? Do you think it was some elaborate scheme to make you angry on your anniversary?" Tony stared at him in disbelief, ignoring how worried Bruce had been since it wasn't conducive for an argument.

"I don't know, Tony," Bruce answered. "I only know what JARVIS said. And if you don't believe me, Betty is my witness. Let's have her come settle this."

"I'm afraid that will not be possible," JARVIS interjected.

The tension between them morphed into confusion as they looked at one another.

“What do you mean she can't?” Bruce was the one to ask the AI what he meant by that.

“Are you feeling alright, JARVIS?” Tony tacked on, wondering if he was malfunctioning.

"I am fine, sir. I only meant that Dr. Ross sends her apologies, but she will not be able to finish dinner as she has another pressing engagement. She has taken the liberty of packing up the food and sending it by way of U."

As if on cue, the elevator opened again and the robot rolled out with a large paper carryout bag.

“Pressing engagement?” Bruce echoed. “What kind of pressing engagement?”

"She was recently invited to speak on an extensive tour regarding her latest paper. She ultimately felt it would be in everyone's best interest if she went alone."

There was a long moment of silence. Tony’s thoughts were far from quiet however. Betty was leaving or maybe already gone. She'd walked right out on Bruce – on their anniversary no less. It made him angry that she would hurt him, confused how she could leave him at all, and selfishly pleased all at the same time.

“Why are you still standing there?” Tony asked him in spite of his selfish streak. “Maybe you can catch her.”

Tony watched as Bruce blinked several times. The physicist nodded once, although looking dazed as he did, and turned to do so. However he only made it a few steps before stopping.

“No.”

Tony’s eyes widened. 

“No?”

Bruce nodded in a way that suggested he thought he was going to be punished for it as he turned to look at him.

“No,” he repeated. “I… I'm not in love with her. She must have realized…” He glanced toward the windows. “Or maybe she's not in love with me anymore either.”

Tony closed his gaping mouth only to open it again to say, “But you two… I thought you must be like, I don't know, soul mates or something." It had nearly killed him how much it seemed that was the case. "You guys picked right back up after all these years and—"

Bruce ducked his head. “It wasn't the same anymore. Maybe that sounds like we… or I wasn't trying hard enough, but it didn't feel... right.” He slowly turned his gaze back toward him and gave a guilty sort of shrug. “I'm not in love with her, Tony.”

“Alright. Noted,” Tony replied as neutrally as he could manage. “But that doesn't mean you're okay. Is this a shock? Do you need some bro time to get over it? I mean she essentially just walked out…”

“Well, yeah that… That part is a little unlike her. And I'm a little angry at her for having JARVIS lie to me to distract me.”

“And I'm a little angry at you for agreeing to lie to Bruce, JARVIS,” Tony chastised.

"Sorry, sir."

“I mean if nothing else she should know better than to worry me about you and Eddy,” Bruce continued, pacing in a small area. “Even if we aren’t on the same page anymore she should have understood that much. Just thinking about something happening to you or Eddy, I—”

Bruce stopped short. He turned his head slowly toward Tony and stared at him like he was a three headed monster or something along similar lines. Tony wasn't entirely sure why, he only knew it made him feel a tad uneasy.

“What is it?” He finally prompted. “Something wrong?”

“Uh… I…” Bruce stammered and continued to look like he didn't know what he was up against. He looked over at U and then back quickly. “Dinner? I mean, that is, if you haven't eaten maybe… Wait, of course you haven't eaten. You told Eddy… Nevermind. What I mean is there's plenty and…”

Tony moved a few steps over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Relax, Bruce. I've been in more awkward situations than sharing what would have been a man's anniversary dinner. He then gave his shoulder a squeeze before moving to grab the food. “Oh, is this from that Indian place we love?”

“It is.”

“Nice. Yeah I'm definitely okay with your dinner invite.” He rummaged through the contents. “Now if only you had gotten…” He paused and then smiled broadly as he pulled out his favorite dish from the place. “I thought you didn't even care that much for this dish,” he said as he turned back to look at Bruce. “Why get it if you didn't have to?”

Bruce looked sheepish. “I, uh, well you love it so much and I'm so used to ordering it… I figured Betty might like it. If not I would have just set it back for you. But I guess it worked out either way, huh?” He finished somewhat awkwardly, avoiding eye contact.

"You are the absolute best," Tony encouraged and Bruce finally met his gaze. "So, if you want to start setting this stuff out while I whip up some mac and cheese for Eddy real quick," he instructed, ignoring that familiar thrill he got when it felt like they were already a family unit.

"Mac and cheese again?" Bruce asked in bemusement as he reached for the bag of food and then followed Tony toward the dining area and kitchen.

"Yeah, told the little man if he tried something new he could also have some mac and cheese. Trying to expand his horizons, if you will." He paused. "Huh. Indian might be too spicy though."

"Oh, actually I got some of that non-spicy couscous. Again, just in case the other stuff was too spicy for Betty. You know my heat tolerance isn't exactly on par with most people."

Tony chuckled. "That's true. You're just lucky I'm a masochist when it comes to spicy food," he teased. "Hmm, but now I'm wondering if I shouldn't pop a few chicken nuggets into the toaster oven for him just to make sure it's a little more balanced." He considered out loud.

"I'd say it's probably a good idea," Bruce replied. He then looked over his shoulder toward where Edwin had climbed up onto the couch again. "Hey, Eddy, do you want some chicken nuggets?"

"Mac cheese!" Edwin called back and they both chuckled.

"Mac and cheese _and_ chicken nuggets?" Bruce tried again. From where they stood they could see him perk up at the win-win situation as well as his eager nod.

"Oh to be two again," Tony quipped with a fond smile at his son and then continued on.

"Tony, wait…" Tony stopped and turned to look at Bruce. "I… I just wanted you to know I understand." Tony knitted his brow. "That is… I understand why Betty did what she did."

Tony nodded slightly, still a little confused. But as long as Bruce understood why Betty left and was mostly okay with it, then that's what mattered and he was happy for his sake that it wasn't going to be hard on him.

"Well, I guess that's what matters," he offered and then finally started on making Edwin's dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting a few chapters of unfinished stuff tonight because I know it's been a minute. I've been severely depressed and my motivation to write has been less than usual and then when I do have motivation words and plots aren't happening anymore and it makes me sad.


	12. AU take on Age of Ultron

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated M - This started as a thing after me and my cousin were discussing all the different ways Age of Ultron could have gone (aka this is a super old one) and then us coming up with a really random plot only suitable for fanfic. But it didn't go anywhere further than a few intro scenes. Includes past Tony/Pepper, Clint/Coulson and Natasha/Surprise Relationship*

_**(Prologue)** _

The sun is warm as it shines down on the lake the Stark-built smart home sits on. Every now and then a fish breaching the surface and then hitting the water again with a slap is heard. The surrounding forest is also awake with the tranquil sounds of wildlife: birds and insects and distant rustling creating the ambience of the late morning. And it's as peaceful a late morning as any.

"No! No, Tony! This is _not about_ Iron Man!"

Almost.

"You're nagging on my suits! How the hell is this not about Iron Man?"

Bruce sighs and cracks open his eyes, looking out on the lake from the patio where he'd been meditating.

"I'm not nagging. I'm giving you concerned advice. Because I'm concerned, Tony. Very concerned. You're building an army!"

"It's not an army; it's a legion."

Bruce raises an eyebrow. Not exactly a winning retort.

"Oh _my_ god. You don't even deny it."

Bruce glances back at the house, studying the patio door and debating if he should go diffuse the situation by 'accidentally' wandering in on the couple's fight. He shakes his head and decides against it, turning his head forward again and closing his eyes. Sooner or later he has to let this battle play out to the end, whatever end that might be. He opts for sooner.

"I'm not doing anything wrong! The only thing wrong around here lately is us fighting all the time. It's like you blame me for something and like hell if I know what it is. I got the reactor out. I dealt with my issues—"

"No, you haven't."

"Okay, I'm in an ongoing process of dealing with my issues, but it's like it's not good enough for you. It's like you want to suffocate me!"

" _I_ want to suffocate _you_? Tony, I packed up everything to come out here when you found out HYDRA might have infiltrated SI too and for _what_?"

"To be safe!"

"I can go anywhere and be safe! But _here_ I'm stuck trying to run the company, trying to support you, and watching everything go to hell! It's falling apart, Tony. You know it is. And you want it to. I really think you do."

Bruce wishes his hearing wasn't so finely tuned because he practically hears the knife turn in Tony's back when he replies, "Yeah, maybe I do."

Everything is quiet, only the sounds of nature filling Bruce's ears again for a long moment, until the patio door opens and then slides shut again harshly. Bruce waits a minute before opening his eyes. He sees the engineer has walked to the edge of the dock, standing there with his hands in his pockets. His body language emanates stubbornness. Bruce sighs and gets up to go join him.

"I don't think there's any coming back from this one," Tony says before he can even reach him.

"You've said that before," Bruce points out.

Tony shakes his head and looks at him over his shoulder for a second. "Yeah, well, I'm tired of the cycle. I've tried to make it work, but I don't know what else I can do. Other than giving up Iron Man and going back to a pointless life."

"Is it pointless if she's in it?" Bruce asks as he stands beside him. Then he realizes maybe that it's too straightforward. "Look," he tries again, "not to play devil's advocate here, but Pepper just…" Bruce glances down at Tony's chest where the reactor used to be, but then catches himself and glances away toward the water. "She worries about you."

"Huh." Bruce sees Tony glance at him and meets his eyes for a brief second before Tony looks back out at the water. "Maybe that's the problem. She's worried about something that can't be changed because I refuse to change it. And I guess I'm blaming her for being worried which she just can't stop doing if she cares even a little."

"Usually how it works," Bruce interjects gently.

"So, it's a broken equation." Bruce doesn't know how to respond to that so he doesn't. They both remain silent for a moment before Tony concludes, "She deserves better. And I guess I don't love her enough to be better." He sighs. “Maybe she’s right. Maybe I do want it to fall apart.” His shoulders slump in a defeated way.

“I don’t believe that,” Bruce says with his own sigh. Tony turns and looks at him head on, confusion in his eyes when Bruce turns his head sideways to look back. “If you wanted that you wouldn’t keep trying to fix it. And you still care about her. I know you were just trying to keep her safe. The only thing that's changed is you realize that caring about someone doesn't mean it works.” He swallows under Tony’s scrutiny and looks back out at the lake. “I don’t think you want it to fall apart or you wouldn’t keep fighting, but you’ve finally resigned yourself to the fact that if you keep fighting it really will fall apart. There won’t be any love left. Just resentment.”

He can feel Tony’s eyes on him for an extremely long moment. “You’re not just talking about me and Pepper.”

“No. I guess not.”

Tony turns back around to stand shoulder to shoulder with him. “Some things still work,” he says.

Bruce isn’t sure what he means by that or what the future holds, but he’ll foolishly stay by his friend’s side come whatever. He thought he’d lost him once, well maybe twice if counting the wormhole. He won’t lose him again if he can help it.

 

**EXCERPTS from Chapter 1**

 

_**(excerpt from first scene)** _

"How the hell did somebody get past three underground stories worth of security?" Hank demands as soon as he's face to face with the facility's head of security.

"Well, that’s what we're trying to figure out, sir," she says. "We weren't even alerted of a breach until Dr. Banner arrived and discovered the prototype was missing." Hank furrows his brow at the impossibility of the situation. He's created the best security system in the world. It's the framework for what will be the most secure and humane prison by time Project Ultron is complete. That it could fail this miserably is both inconceivable and concerning. "Sir," she continues, disbelief in her voice, "there isn't even anything out of place on the security tapes as far as we've been able to find."

"Looped feed?" She shakes her head. "That's not possible," he declares. "Ultron didn't just get up and walk out."

"It would be on the tapes if he did," she replies helplessly. "It's like it vanished into thin air."

"Or it was an inside job," he says, looking at her sharply. She doesn't flinch, but he can tell she's uncomfortable.

"A possibility we're investigating."

He sighs and shakes his head, looking around the facility. It's swarming with S.H.I.E.L.D. agents attempting to make sense of the situation. He looks back at her. "Where's Dr. Banner? Is he still here?"

"He's in the control room."

Hank nods and makes his way there, sidestepping the many S.H.I.E.L.D. agents around him along the way. When he gets there he stops in his tracks just inside the room. Not only is Dr. Banner there, so is a very unwelcome Tony Stark.

"Who called you in?" Hank asks gruffly.

Stark and Banner spin around simultaneously from where they'd been studying data on one of the many computers in the room. Banner's brief deer in headlights expression gives away the answer before the man looks at Stark nervously and then back again, saying, "I did, Dr. Pym."

Hank crosses his arms. "Care to explain yourself, Dr. Banner?"

"Hey," Stark steps forward, "he was doing you a favor. And for the record, I would have shown up sooner or later anyway. One, I'm clinically attached to Dr. Banner and tend not to do too well when he's gone for very long." Hank furrows his brow and looks at the physicist to see his sheepish reaction. "Two, _S.H.I.E.L.D._  also called me in on this one to consult so I'd be here one way or the other, Pym."

 

 

_**(Natasha's small intro)** _

Natasha's eyes crack open at the sound of an alert on her phone. She'd just finally been in the deepest recesses of sleep, dreaming good dreams on top of it. Although she usually does when she's relatively safe in her own bed with –

There's a fitful groan and a barely whispered, "Tasha?"

"Everything's fine," she mumbles back. There's a hum, also barely heard, in response.

Natasha carefully reaches for her phone on the nightstand and brings it to her face, squinting her eyes a little at the brightness of the screen in the dark. She lazily undoes the lock, half-expecting some drunken text from somebody. It's been several months since she's gotten one from Stark so it's overdue at this point, and as much as she hates to admit it she's sure he could have managed to track down her number regardless of her disappearing act now that S.H.I.E.L.D. has disbanded.

The text isn't from Stark. It isn't from Hill either, quite the capable lush herself now that she doesn't have S.H.I.E.L.D. It isn't even a drunken text at all.

It's a message from Rogers, one of the few people who actually has her number just in case. She blinks at the one word message on the screen while her three a.m. emotions war inside of her. 

Assemble.

 

_**(excerpt from Clint's intro scene)** _

The air is warm and the breeze through the open window tousles the thin draperies, filling the room with the combined smell of salt, sand and tropical plant life. The sun is already high in the sky, brightening the room, and outside of the small beach property the ocean and island wildlife are no doubt laughing and awake. Clint couldn't care less as all the fun in the sun he could possibly need is the man he's wrestling with beneath their white duvet.

"We really need to get up already," Phil says with bright eyes and a smile as he looks down at him, currently the one whose got him pinned.

"Why?" Clint quizzes. "Not like we have anywhere we need to be."

Phil scowls at him. "You can try and distract me all you want, but I'm going to that art show. There are going to be too many classic pieces there for me to miss it. And you're coming too," he says with a tone of finality that just won't do as he pulls away and makes to get up.

Clint hums and then wrestles him back down to the bed, pinning him with his toned arms and legs. Arms and legs that most certainly have _not_ gotten flabby in his retirement regardless of how he and Phil tease each other about their complacency.

"Fine," he acquiesces, "but if I have to suffer so do you."

Phil furrows his brow, but before he can ask him what that's supposed to mean Clint slides down his body and starts to lave at his stomach with his lips and tongue. He dips his tongue into Phil's sensitive belly button.

"C-clinton…" Phil always hates him for how he can make him putty without even touching him properly, just by finding all his most sensitive nerve endings. He can hear his frustration already building in his tone. " _Fuck,"_ Phil groans when Clint teases the head of his cock with a quick swipe of his tongue only to dive right back into licking at his belly button instead, glancing up at him through his lashes as he does. Phil opens his mouth to finish his admonishment, but Clint takes Phil into hand before he can and instead he cries out almost incomprehensibly, " _ngh-ah, Barton!_ "

Clint smirks and then kisses his way down to Phil's thighs. "I wasn't aware Clinton Fuck Barton was my name," he says before devouring Phil's pulsing cock, intent on making this last long enough that his partner begs for it. He almost considers not giving it to him, making him desperate enough to beg Clint to pull him into a bathroom at the art show and finish him off fast and dirty, but he's not feeling that cruel at the moment. That and Phil didn't speak to him for three days the last time they'd done anything in public. In Clint's defense, Phil hadn't realized they'd gone into the women's room instead of the men's room _either_.

As if Phil can read his thoughts just by the smirk wrapped around his cock, he warns in his best superior office voice, albeit a little strangled as he does, "You'd better finish this or you'll wish you were dead by time I'm through with you."

Clint groans and removes his mouth. "I love it when you want it so bad you threaten me."

"That certainly explains a lot."

Clint's eyes widen in sync with Phil's and they quickly shuffle out from under the duvet, sitting up beside one another. Their eyes go straight to the door where the unexpected intruder is standing there like a lazily amused cat with her arms folded across her chest. Clint looks her over from head to toe, taking in the way her hair has grown out, down past her shoulders though not nearly as long as it had been when he'd first met her. What gives him pause, however, is the fact that she's wearing a sun dress that doesn't look like something of her usual apparel.

She rolls her eyes, reading his thoughts easily, and lets her arms fall. "I don't think you're in any position to judge my attire. And I'm sure you're in no state to under those covers either," she adds with a smirk. Phil groans. "I had to grab something that seemed appropriate for Tahiti," she explains then, averting her eyes when she realizes Phil is attempting to discreetly put on his discarded swim trunks.

Clint notices when he stands that Phil put on his trunks instead. And, damn it, he's immediately reminded of what Natasha had interrupted. Phil finds a shirt and throws it on. He then walks over to Natasha and says, "How about we move this reunion to the veranda while Clint makes himself decent."

"You realize I've seen him naked plenty of times," Natasha says with a teasing expression.

"I try not to think about it," Phil says as he ushers her out.

Clint sighs, wondering at the reason for Natasha's visit when they're all supposed to be off the grid at the moment, and when he's sure she's got more pressing personal matters she'd like to attend to instead. He quickly works on calming his already-easing erection back down to something manageable and then dresses. As Phil had suggested, he finds the two ex-agents on the veranda.

Phil is pouring iced tea while Natasha says, laughing softly, "And here I thought I'd miss it while I'm drinking mimosas instead."

"Well, I can offer you something a little stronger if you'd like," Phil says as he sets the pitcher down. "But something tells me you'd rather have the tea."

Natasha takes the glass, looks at it with a small smile and brings it up to her lips. "Not as good as I'm used to," she says after a sip, "but you're right."

Clint joins the conversation at that moment, walking over to sit down next to where Phil's taken a seat. "So, why do I get the feeling you didn't fly all the way here for iced tea and a nice chat?" he asks, taking a glass for himself.

She snorts. "You're my best friend, but I don't like you that much."

"What's the situation, Natasha?" Phil asks point blank.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *And if the clues weren't painfully obvious, the surprise relationship was of course going to be Laura. So instead of the surprise farm and family being Clint, it was going to be Natasha and it was going to blow the other Avengers' (except Clint) minds even more so than it did with Clint because everybody obviously thinks Natasha is some single femme fatale who can seduce anyone and is all "love is for children", but oh hey she's actually a wife and mother in her spare time like, who tf cares what Red Room did to her because she managed to find happiness and have a family regardless yay for her!! (Although her being shaken by Scarlet Witch would have probably involved fear of losing her family instead of a flashback so there would have still been potential for angst.)


	13. Cursed (An AU inspired by Once Upon A Time)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was a stalled cowrite with EllexBear, and one we've talked off and on about me finishing by myself with some updates - since the universe has expanded immensely since then so maybe we could recast some of the characters (like we've talked about changing Daisy to Carol for one example). And this is greatly disjointed, just a lot of little snippets that go nowhere, some not even finished snippets, since they're just mostly rewrites of scenes from the show lol.

"Sir, the thrusters have been at maximum speed for seventeen hours," JARVIS intoned.

"Do I look like I care, JARVIS?" Tony grumbled. He wished they had found the location of Bruce's whereabouts sooner, but they hadn't so now that Steve, Natasha and Clint had found him, as they had split up, Tony wasn't about to slow down. "How far out are we?"

"Approximately ten minutes, sir," JARVIS answered and Tony cursed, feeling every minute pound like a weight against his arc reactor.

"Tony, we've got Ross and his men neutralized," Natasha said over the com. "But we're losing him."

Tony didn't have to ask who _him_ was. In fact, he couldn't even bring himself to say anything for once. Now was not the time for words. He just had to get there. Several long minutes later he finally landed at the unmarked facility. He hurried in toward his team.

"You're too late, Tony," Rhodey said, having joined in on the search.

"What do you mean I'm too…" His sentence trailed and his heart turned to ice.

Bruce was laid out on a medical table, skin pale and torn. He didn't look to be breathing save for a slow, dangerously slow, up and down movement of his chest.

"Sir, my diagnostics show that Dr. Banner is in a comatose state," JARVIS supplied.

"Shit-no-no-no-no- _no_ ," Tony mumbled as he looked on in despair at the man he loved. "Like this he should… He should be able to…" Tony shook his head, words failing.

"There's no telling if the Hulk will show up at all if he hasn't yet," Natasha said. "It shouldn't have even gotten this far." She looked at him in pity.

"It doesn't make sense!" Tony growled. "He created a sedative that could slow his heart down to one beat per minute and _that_ wasn't enough." He paced around for a moment before immediately going back to Bruce's side. "The Big Guy still got angry, thought he was dead and came out. How…? How is this possible?" Tony looked him over in confusion, hand brushing against his prone face as gently as he could with the suit still on.

"Maybe they didn't slow it down far enough for it to trigger that kind of fail safe?" Clint suggested.

Tony's eyes widened as he lifted his faceplate. "JARVIS, monitor his vitals. Tell me if there's any reaction." He leaned down and kissed Bruce softly.

"What the hell?" Clint was the first to mutter. "Stark, this isn't some kind of fairy-tale."

"His heart rate has increased, sir," JARVIS said and Tony smiled, hope rising in his chest.

He kissed him again, a little more deeply, ignoring the protests from his team.

"Tony, man, this is getting a little weird," Rhodey said.

"Come on, Bruce," Tony whispered against Bruce's ear. "We need you to wake up. We need you to turn a little green for us. Come back to me."

"Tony, this is—" Steve started, but Natasha cut him off.

"Look," she said and Tony did. Bruce's skin was starting to ripple and turn faintly green beneath the blood and bruises where they had beat him in addition to whatever else they had done. "He's steadily raising his heart rate." She looked at him.

"That's the plan," Tony confessed. "A spike of adrenaline that far under… no idea if the Other Guy would respond or if it would just hurt Bruce more. And I'm sure as hell not going to _kill_ him to get the job done," he spat, knowing about the fail safe and considering it a last ditch effort. "I just need him to get excited enough to wake up and take it from there." He leaned down and kissed him once more, desperate for it to work.

Then it happened. Bruce gasped against his lips and Tony pulled back to see his eyes open wide to a brilliant green. Bruce began breathing deeply in a panic, the pain no doubt surging through him and waking the Other Guy up the rest of the way. He started to thrash his head as if willing the Hulk to stay down.

"No, Bruce. Let him out," Tony urged.

"Tony?" Bruce asked with a voice somewhere between his own and Hulk's.

"You're safe now," Tony reassured him. It was a reassurance for himself too. "But you're hurt and you need to let Hulk out." Bruce's head fell back violently on the table. "Everybody stand back. He's not fighting him anymore."

Tony watched as the transformation slowly ripped through his lover's injured body until at last the Hulk was entirely unleashed with a disoriented roar. Hulk trashed the equipment that had been used to experiment on Bruce, but none of them dared or cared enough to stop him. Finally, he turned with an angry huff to look at them.

Tony saw the moment the behemoth recognized them as his team. "Tony," Hulk grunted.

"Here, buddy." Tony stepped forward.

"Tony save Puny Banner. Team save?" Hulk looked around at all of their faces again.

Tony smiled. "Yeah, we came to save him. To save both of you. Not that you're not the strongest there is, but you know me, Big Green. I'll always do anything to protect you both. Is Bruce okay in there? Is he… He's okay now, right?"

Hulk grunted an affirmation and to Tony's surprise, as well as the team's he noted, Hulk began to shrink back down again to let Bruce return. As soon as he was himself again, Tony was at his side before the weary physicist's legs could buckle.

"Tony?" Bruce blinked at him as Tony held him steady. "You… You found me."

Tony laughed softly, or else he might start to cry, overwhelmed by relief. "Did you doubt I would?" he asked teasingly.

Bruce still looked exhausted from more than just the transformation in spite of the way his body had healed, but he managed a wry smile that Tony would have given everything to see only three days before.

"Honestly? Maybe a little," Bruce admitted. "But I wasn't in my right mind at the time."

"Don't worry, Bruce." Tony held him closer. "I will always find you," he said, fixing intent eyes on him.

Bruce smiled more genuinely as he stepped back onto his own weight, but still didn't let go of Tony, who kept his hands firmly on Bruce's waist.

"Promise?"

Clarity surged through Tony in that moment and in a stunned tone he said quickly, "Yeah. Yeah, I do. I… In fact, I think I want to promise you… forever."

Bruce's eyes widened and there were a few surprised squeaks from the team. "Are you… are you saying what I think you're saying."

"I think so," Tony replied with a shrug.

"You're actually asking me to marry you on my almost-deathbed?" Bruce looked at him dubiously, light returning to his eyes and cementing Tony's desire.

"Yes," he answered. "Because I love you, Bruce Banner. And I never, _ever_ want to get that close to death do us part again. Not before I even have the privilege of actually being married to you."

Bruce's mouth fell open slightly and there was a pregnant pause before he closed it again and his eyes began to twinkle with tears. A thin smile formed on his face, the one Tony knew was all for him.

"Neither do I," he responded.

Tony wasted no time in capturing Bruce's lips in a passionate kiss to seal their fate, their team offering them congratulations in the background.

~

Daisy sighed as she moved to the refrigerator in her small apartment and pulled out a cupcake and a bottle of beer. "Happy birthday to me," she said with a derisive snort as she popped open the cap from the beer and took a long swig. She then set it down and moved to a nearby drawer.

It was silly, but it was her twenty-eighth birthday and damn it if she didn't need just need to go full out with the pity party at the moment. So Daisy pulled out a single candle, striped blue and purple, and a box of matches. She set the candle in the center of the lone cupcake she'd bought for herself the day before and lit it.

"So much for this being my banner year," she said with a sigh. Then she gave a small shrug, closed her eyes, made a silly wish, and blew out the flame.

There was a sudden knock on the door and she startled. Looking around cautiously, unsure of who would be visiting her, she moved slowly to the door. Upon opening it she was surprised to see a boy who looked like he could be no more than ten.

"Uh, hi?" Daisy tilted her head.

"Are you Daisy Johnson?" The boy asked, sounding hopeful.

She narrowed her eyes slightly. "Yes. Who are you?"

A wide smile split open his face and he bounced slightly on his heels. "My name's Peter. I'm your son."

"My… My what?" Daisy blinked several times and fell back a little. Peter took that opportunity to let himself into her apartment and she watched him in disbelief. "Hey, kid. Kid… Peter?" He turned and looked at her as she shut the door. "I don't have a son."

Peter looked at her plaintively. "Did you give up a baby for adoption ten years ago?" Her eyes widened and he seemed to realize he had her because he said, "That baby was me."

"Oh my god," she muttered and spun around, eyes scanning the opposite side of the room. "This can't be happening," she said, shaking her head.

"We should probably head back soon," Peter said without any segue and she spun back around to see him helping himself to her cupcake.

"Back where?" She narrowed her eyes at him and tried to ignore the small bit of childish indignation she felt over his just eating her birthday cupcake without asking.

"I want you come home with me," he explained as he licked some green icing from the corner of his lips.

"Home?" Daisy stared at him in disbelief until what he meant sank in. "Oh no. No, I'm calling the cops." She reached for her cell phone.

"You do that and I'll just tell them you kidnapped me," Peter challenged and she stilled.

"You wouldn't dare." Daisy fixed her eyes on him studiously.

"Try me," Peter challenged again.

Daisy folded her arms. "Look, kid. I have a superpower."

"You do!?" Peter chirped the question with so much excitement that it took her off guard.

"Yeah, I do," she continued after a slight stutter, as if his question hadn't surprised her. "I can tell when anyone is lying."

"That's kind of lame," Peter responded, scrunching his face.

"Maybe, but it comes in handy. And you, Peter. You're lying. You don’t want me to call the cops and you definitely didn't travel all the way here from wherever it is you came from just to have me arrested." She raised an eyebrow at him.

Peter immediately deflated. His shoulders slumped and he hung his head. "Just come home with me. Please?"

Daisy let her arms fall and she worried her bottom lip. Finally she sighed. "Where's home?" she asked, trying not to sound defeated already.

"Marvel, New York," he answered.

"Marvel?" Daisy repeated. She had never heard of it so it must be a pretty small town. And who named a town Marvel? "Seriously? Is that upstate?" He hummed in affirmation. She rolled her eyes as she took in a deep breath. "Fine," she said on exhale. "Let's get you back to Marvel."

~

Daisy looked over at Peter in the passenger seat. He was reading a comic book and kept glancing over at her every now and then when he thought she wasn't paying attention.

"Comics, huh?" She attempted to be friendly. It wasn't that she wanted to blame him for coming to find her or want him to think she hadn't wanted him whatsoever, but he just wouldn't understand. "Yeah, I was into comics at your age." She snorted inwardly at herself. She was maybe into them a little too much at one point. "Which one are you reading?"

He glanced at her and then looked down at the comic. "It's about how all of the superhero characters in Manhattan got cursed and sent to our world."

Daisy furrowed her brow and glanced at him quickly. "That's a strange arc. So like our world is a parallel universe? I don't recall that one. But I guess I gave up after a while so maybe it's newer."

"You really _do_ know comics?" Peter asked in a hopeful tone.

"Yeah, sure." She shrugged. "What you thought just because I'm a girl I don't really know comics?" She glanced at him with a little disappointment that her maybe-son was being raised sexist.

"No," Peter defended himself. "Do you know who Iron Man and the Hulk are?" He asked next.

She huffed at his seeming continuance in not believing her when she said she knew comics. "Of course. Tony Stark and Bruce Banner, right?"

"Right!"

"They were, uh, part of The Avengers last time I read comics. I lost track around that time and maybe it was my imagination, but were they implied to maybe have a thing for each other?"

Peter nodded furiously.

"Oh. So how'd that ever turn out?" Daisy asked, curious for some reason, but when she glanced at Peter he had a gleam in his eyes.

"They got married," he chirped.

Daisy blinked. "Well, that's a progressive statement." When were those comics written and how did that pass the radar? She shrugged and decided it didn't matter and it was pretty awesome actually. "Good for them."

"But it's not just a story arc," Peter said. "It really happened."

"What really happened?" Daisy didn't bother looking over.

"They're all real. And they all live in Marvel. That's why you have to back with me."

"What?" Daisy laughed a little. "Okay, you have quite the imagination."

"It's not my imagination. It's true. They were sent to our world and they need someone to break the curse that Enchantress cast over the town before Loki sent everyone here."

"Enchantress? Loki?" Daisy looked over at him in askance. "Look, kid—"

"Peter," he groused and she rolled her eyes.

"I know I don't have any say here, but have your parents ever sat you aside and taught you the difference between fantasy and reality? Those comic books you're reading are just stories. Make believe."

"No they're not! Loki opened a portal and sent everyone to a cursed town in our world. That's where I live."

"Unbelievable." Daisy shook her head. "So who wrote the comic books then, huh? How do we know this Loki opened a portal and sent them here _if they were sent here_? Do you see what I mean? It's impossible."

"Use your super power," Peter continued to pester, ignoring her logic. "See if I'm lying."

She looked over at him and sure enough he didn't seem like he was lying. Then again, he might just really believe it enough to have conviction in what he was saying. "Just because you believe something, doesn't make it true, Peter. Trust me on that one." She knew that all too well.

"You're in it," Peter blurted out and she jerked her head in his direction, not having expected that.

"What do you mean I'm in it?" Daisy looked at him skeptically. "You would think I would remember that."

"No, you wouldn't," Peter countered. "You were just a baby when your parents sent you through the portal to our world. Not even a year old."

Daisy felt more uneasy at this new turn of the topic. It was one thing to be told you were from a comic book and another entirely to start up on some wild idea that she had parents from said comic book. Say nothing of the fact that she _was_ found abandoned at just less than a year old.

"Oh, right. A portal." She rolled her eyes. "So in every world my parents are awful. That's reassuring."

"They didn't mean for you to come by yourself," Peter mumbled.

"Okay, I'll play. So who am I in these comics of yours then?" She glanced over at him questioningly.

"You're the daughter of Tony Stark and Bruce Banner," he answered tentatively.

"Iron Man and the Hulk?" Daisy asked dubiously. That explained why he seemed intent to know if she knew about them. "Well that explains my tech know-how and immense distrust of suits," she said with a snort as she looked in her rear view mirror.

"Maybe," Peter said breezily. "You're their surrogate daughter so you must have inherited something from them."

"O _kay_. You've got issues, kid."

"And you're going to fix them," Peter replied. "Just like your dad would."

"Which one?" She asked sardonically.

"Tony Stark, of course. Iron Man? Engineer genius?"

"Right, of course. Please tell me you're not going to try to introduce me to whoever it is you think are my fathers because if so, I'm stopping in the next town and putting you on a bus."

"It wouldn't work," Peter said sadly. "Part of the curse is that none of them remember who they are and things… things are all wrong."

Daisy sighed. "Well, isn't that convenient."

"They have the same names, but they're not the same people anymore."

"Oh, I get it. Because they have the same names, you're convinced they must be the characters. That happens. That's totally plausible."

"Really?" Peter sounded unconvinced. "You think it's plausible for everyone in the town to have a name that links up to a comic character in some way or another?"

Daisy hesitated, her gut lurching a little. "Yeah, sure," she said anyways.

"It's okay if you don't believe me yet. Heroes never believe at first in their origin stories. You'll see I'm right." 

 ~

 

"You're the mayor's kid?!" Daisy practically shouted the question at the ten year old boy as he pursed his lips and looked away guiltily. They had pulled up in front of a large house and she had commented on the size of it and that's when Peter had muttered something about the mayor's house being the biggest in the town. "Okay, whatever," she said as she peered out the window at the house. "Let's get this over with."

"Please, please don't make me go back there," Peter begged as she got out of the car. She walked around to the other side and opened the door when he didn't.

"Come on, Peter." She gestured for him to get out and he did so reluctantly. "I'm sure your parents are worried about you." She shut the door and walked toward the house.

"I only have a dad and he's Loki. Don't you get it? _He's evil_."

"Peter?!"

The conversation was cut short as the door of the house flew open and a very tall, sophisticated man with raven hair emerged from the house and ran toward Peter. 

 

~

 

"See, I knew you'd realize I'm right," Peter said with a crooked smile as he hurried toward his school.

"I never said I believe you," Daisy called after him.

"Why else would you have stayed?" He called back in askance before hurrying on.

Daisy shook her head and then met with the questioning look of a middle-aged man with dark wavy hair and piercingly dark eyes. She felt something strange come over her at the sight of him, a small shiver, but not the kind she would equate with being attracted to him. Not that she would say he wasn't attractive for a man his age by any means, he absolutely was with his nice face and scholarly sort of look, but that's definitely not what it felt like.

"It's so nice to see his smile again," the man said coming over to her. "I'm Peter's teacher. You are?"

Daisy blinked a few times at the slightly taller man. "I'm, uh, his birth mother." 

"Oh?" The teacher blinked a few times as well. He looked down for a moment and then met her gaze again. "Does the mayor know you're here?"

Daisy understood the question. "Yeah. I met him last night," she answered. "Peter came to find me. Seems to be having some issues with his dad. What's Loki's deal anyway? He seems charming at first, but underneath really cold. How does a guy like that get elected?"

She knew it wasn't any of her business and that she really should be in her car on her way back to Manhattan, but she couldn't stop the questions from escaping her mouth. She had a tendency to start questioning things and looking for information and blurting out her thoughts without a filter after all.

"He's been mayor for as long as I can remember," he answered with a shrug. Daisy furrowed her brow, Peter's comments about nobody remembering anything about the past ringing in her ears. "Nobody's been brave enough to run against him. He inspires quite a bit of fear when you cross him."

"Not exactly reassuring words for a birth mom, you know," Daisy pointed out with a small quirk of her lips to one side.

"Oh, oh, I'm sorry," he immediately apologized. "I didn't mean to imply… I have no reason to believe he doesn't love Peter," he said. "He may not be the perfect parent, but I don't think he's ever hurt Peter." Then the teacher gave a long sigh. "If anything I did by giving him those comic books he's obsessed with now."

"You did that?" Daisy looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"I thought he needed a friend and…" He shook his head in a rueful manner. "I didn't realize he wouldn't be able to distinguish fact from fiction. And now he's convinced his father is _the_ Loki. I… I really messed things up it seems."

Daisy bit the inside of her cheek before hazarding, "I don't know about that. You couldn't have known. You're not his parent."

"I know," he replied. "I care a lot about him though and I feel bad that, as his teacher, I didn’t see warning signs. I should have just spoken with his father about my concerns. Well, okay, I've tried before, but…" He sighed. "I'm sorry for rambling about this. So are you planning on staying or…?"

"You're fine," Daisy reassured him first. "And I don't know. Maybe." She still wasn't convinced it was the right thing to do even if her gut told her to. "I guess I'm a little worried about Peter. You have to admit, thinking everyone is a hero from a comic book is a little out there. And I'm worried he might just run away again to come find me."

The teacher nodded. "He's a special and very clever boy," he said. "And obviously your being here seems to have done wonders for his disposition at least."

"I don't know about that," Daisy hedged as she met his gaze again.

Another shiver went through her that she couldn't explain. Maybe he just had that kind of effect on people, had a commanding presence or something. Then again, he seemed completely ordinary and more likely to be overlooked or even ill-used if her ability to read people was anything to go on.

"So, uh, who does Peter think you are?" She decided to ask randomly before the lull in conversation could get any more uncomfortable.

He chuckled and it sounded a little rusty, his head shaking slightly. "The Hulk if you can believe it," he answered.

Daisy's vision tunneled. Her hair stood on end as her stomach lurched. "As in Dr. Bruce Banner?" She asked, voice slightly strangled.

He gave her a small smile and held out his hand to her finally. "Well, I'm not a doctor. Just a lowly school teacher," he said with another chuckle. "But, yes, I'm Bruce Banner. I guess that's why he must think I'm a superhero."

Daisy took his hand tentatively, but when she did she felt all the more overwhelmed. He seemed taken aback by the contact as well and for a fraction of a moment they didn't shake hands. They just stood there hand in hand and looking at each other like the other was familiar. Then the moment passed and Bruce shook her hand firmly and let go again.

"So who does Peter think you are?" Bruce asked her, breaking through her conflicting thoughts.

"I…" She worried her lip. "I'm not in the comics," she answered just as the bell rang, signifying the start of the school day.

Bruce looked back at the school and then gave her an apologetic look, regarding the need to end the conversation no doubt. At the moment, she couldn't say she minded. "Oh, well, maybe that's not a bad thing," he offered in good humor. "If you decide to stick around then we'll have to talk again sometime, Ms.—"

"Daisy," she said and a strange shadow crossed his face that made her heart skip a beat. "Daisy Johnson."

He recovered with a small nod. "Nice to meet you, Ms. Johnson."

"You too," she said after he was gone. "I think."

~

"You look like you need to talk," Bruce said to her and Daisy couldn't ignore the way his warm tone washed over her.

It practically drew her into the small apartment until before she even knew what was happening she found herself sitting at the man's table while he made hot cocoa. She couldn't help but think about how strange that notion seemed in addition to everything else. The guy was one of her fathers according to Peter and his first question upon inviting her into his home had been, like parents were stereotypically apt to do, to ask if she'd like some cocoa.

"Peppermint?" She questioned as the unexpected flavor touched her tongue upon the first drink. It was July 5th. Most people only put peppermint in their drinks at holiday time in her experience – her firsthand experience of enjoying peppermint year round.  

"Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry," Bruce apologized. He seemed to do that a lot. "I can make you some without. I forgot not everybody likes peppermint in their drinks like me. If it had been tea I would have probably just made you my favorite peppermint tea without a second thought. It, uh, it relaxes me. I tend to get stressed easily," he explained with a hitch of a shoulder and moved to take the mug.

"No, it's okay," she assured, stopping him. He nodded and backed away. "It's just…" She didn't finish. It was just a coincidence. "So, stressed easily? Like the Hulk?" She chose to turn it into a joke instead.

He gave a small laugh as he returned with his own mug and a plate of cookies. "I guess that is a little damning," he said as he sat down. "Or it could be because I'm a teacher," he joked and she gave a small laugh of her own.

Daisy took one of the cookies and bit into it. Her eyes widened slightly as the delicious morsel practically melted in her mouth. Her delight in the taste of it must have been apparent because a glance at Bruce showed her he was looking away sheepishly, but very obviously pleased. She looked at the cookie and for a moment she almost wished for some alternate universe where she _could_ have been this man's daughter. He was pleasant and obviously a good cook and just something about being in the room with him felt nicer than anything she'd felt in a long time.

"So, tell me," she returned to the moment, "back at the sheriff's office when you bailed me out…" She set the cookie back down and stared into her mug. "You said you trusted me." She looked at him finally. "Why?"

At the question, Bruce ducked his head and pursed his lips. He looked searchingly at his own mug of hot cocoa. "It's strange," he started, tongue darting out for a slow swipe of his bottom lip, "ever since this morning, I've had the oddest feeling that we've met before." Daisy's breath caught in her throat as he ventured a look back up at her, searching her face now. "I know that probably sounds crazy," he then offered with a shake of his head.

Daisy took a deep breath. "I might be beginning to reevaluate my definition of crazy," she admitted.

Bruce snorted gently. "Well, for what it's worth, I don't think you're guilty of anything they said you did. I've never been one to really trust that people in power know what they're doing."

"That makes two of us," she said earnestly, ignoring the further coincidence. Anyone with a brain would think the same after all. She then sighed. "But it doesn't matter if I'm guilty or not. I don't belong here." And she meant it in more ways than one. She wasn't Peter's rightful parent. Bruce Banner was not her father. Marvel was not her home. "I'm going to head out."

"And Peter?" Bruce asked her with a look of genuine concern.

"Look, if I stay, he's just going to keep pitting me against his dad. And I might not like the guy, but that's not something Peter needs to do. It's not good for him. I don't want him to get hurt."

"You don't think it'll hurt him when he finds out you just left him?" Bruce asked her in a slightly accusatory tone that made her blink hard. His eyes were dark and disapproving.

"I…" She couldn't find her voice. She actually felt discouraged at the mere glimpse of his disappointment in her decision.

All at once his face softened and he closed his eyes. "I'm sorry. That was out of line. It's your call and it's not my place to say whether or not you're doing what you think is best." He sighed and opened his eyes again. "And I'm no one to judge," he admitted. "I think I understand the fight or flight thing. It's… It's easier to leave before people get hurt. Better that way," he said solemnly. "Then again…" His voice took on something different then and Daisy felt herself mesmerized by the distant look on his face. "Maybe the very fact that you want to leave is why you need to stay. You care about him."

Daisy's eyebrows moved toward her hairline slowly as the weight of his words settled somewhere in her chest.

"You're trying to protect him," Bruce said after a moment when she didn't respond. "But maybe running isn't the answer you think it is."

~

"There are fifteen kids…"

"You want fifteen kids?"

Bruce sputtered a little and set down his cup of tea quickly. "Oh, no. Good Lord, no," he said quickly. "No, there are fifteen kids in my class," he clarified. "If you're scheduled tomorrow, you'll meet them actually. I'm taking them to the hospital as part of the volunteer outreach program."

"Oh, right. That makes more sense."

"I mean, that's not to say I don't want kids," Bruce said after that, tone touched with something fond and far away. "I do. I… I want kids, picket fences, marriage, true love… I want it all really. I-I know that's maybe a little—" He stopped abruptly and finally realized where his date's attention had been. "…outside of some people's ideals," he finished his previous statement. "Tasha," he said then as the waitress passed by. The redhead stopped and waited for the request. "Check please," Bruce said.

Daisy watched the inattentive date walk past her table on his way out of the diner and then shut her laptop and quickly moved to sit in the seat he had previously occupied. "Not that I was spying or anything," she said without introduction and Bruce looked up from where he'd been hanging his head with eyes closed with a startled expression. "Actually, I was spying," she admitted and his eyebrows shot up over the rims of his eyeglasses. "Couldn't help it when I realized that jerk was making eyes at the waitress the whole time. I probably should have intervened, but—"

"It's okay," Bruce cut her off. "I didn't really expect anything to come of it," he said carefully as Natasha returned with his change and moved on.

"You even paid?" Daisy gave him a horrified look. "Are you a saint or something?"

"I distinctly feel like I've been called that before," he answered in slight amusement. "But don't ask me by who or when. No, I'm not," he then added quickly. "Clint's not exactly well-off. He works a lot of odd and end jobs. At the sheriff's office, at the hospital, and at the animal shelter are his main three. I actually met him at the hospital," Bruce explained. "I volunteer there. He's not a bad guy, just…"

"Some people can't help themselves?" Daisy asked him dubiously and he shrugged.

"I'm not exactly a catch," he said with a sigh as he gathered his change and stood to leave.

"Give yourself a little credit there, Bruce," Daisy said, following him until they were outside. "Not that I've seen all of them yet, but you're definitely one of the most attractive men in town." He stopped and looked at her as if the comment had stung him. "Not that I'm attracted to you," she clarified quickly. "I'm… I'm not at all. So don't think I'm coming onto you or trying to make this weird."

"That's a relief," Bruce said and visibly looked like he'd just dodged a bullet. "Not that you're not very beautiful," he continued awkwardly. "You really are, but I'm not exactly interested in women. Sorry. I mean, I think there was one a long time ago, but she might have just been the exception. Honestly, it was so long ago that I can't even remember her name. Weird, right?"

"A little," Daisy replied hesitantly.

"So you decided to stay after all," Bruce said after a moment of companionable silence as they walked down the sidewalk.

"That's a very astute observation," she deflected with humor.

"Alright, alright," he said with a small laugh. "So where are you staying then? Hopefully not the sheriff's office again," he said in a dry, teasing tone.

Daisy chuckled. "No, not if I can help it. Unless there's some weird small town law you have here about people hobo-ing it in their vans."

Bruce paused beside her and she turned to see his face drawn up into several worry lines. "You're sleeping in your van?"

"Oh yeah," she said with a nonchalant shrug. "Trust me. Crashing in my car doesn't even come close to cracking the top ten list of things I've had to do to get by. It was the hard knocks life for me," she joked nervously. "It just seems there's not a lot of vacancies here in Marvel." She lifted her laptop slightly in indication of her failed attempt to find a place. "None actually."

"I…" Bruce started, but looked slightly tentative. "I have a spare room," he finally offered with a hitch of a shoulder. He met her gaze with what looked like genuine concern for her well-being.

Daisy felt her chest tighten yet again with the way he was so welcoming of her with very little batting of an eye – and even that seemed to be because he was more worried she'd be put off by him and not the other way around. She felt her mind go back and forth. She wanted more than anything to say yes. Hypothetical fictional father or not, he was quickly becoming what could be a very good friend. But that was dangerous. She didn't have friends and she didn't have family. She'd gone searching at one time and there hadn't been anything but dead ends. She did better alone.

"I'm more of a loner," she finally said, giving into her fate. It was better to say it now then let herself believe, yet again, that she could actually be wanted only to be kicked out on her ass again. "Sorry," she apologized. "I appreciate the offer," she added. "But, trust me. You wouldn't want me for a roommate."

"Well, I sincerely doubt that," Bruce said kindly. "But I understand. I'm a bit of a lone wolf too. Honestly, it's maybe a little surprising I even offered," he poked fun at himself. Then after a moment he made to leave her. "Good luck with Peter," he said in a knowing tone before he did, since there were obviously no other reasons for her to have stayed.

"Thanks," Daisy said weakly as she watched him go. She wanted nothing more than to follow after him.

~

"You can't be serious," Bruce said to her as he handed her a cup of peppermint tea.

"I am," Daisy said, wincing a little.

"I know you said you're starting to reevaluate your definition of crazy, but reading a comic book to a coma patient?" He eyed her incredulously. "They're hard enough to read to yourself what with the speech bubbles," he said with a hint of amusement underlying his disbelief.

"I know, but Peter seems to think it'll help him," Daisy tried to explain. "Something to do with who he thinks he is in the comics."

"And who's that?" Bruce asked to the point.

"Um, well, Iron Man," Daisy answered and looked at him tentatively, wondering if he was familiar with the story arc. The way Bruce's eyes widened told her that he was.

"And… if I'm the Hulk…" Bruce licked his lip nervously. "They were together in the comics," he said in a low tone. "You know that, right?"

"I do," Daisy confessed. "Which is why Peter thinks maybe you…"

"And him?" Bruce filled in the blanks and she nodded. Bruce let out a sharp exhale of breath. "Daisy…"

"I know, I know," she said, raising her hands. "But I think we need to play along. My plan is maybe if nothing happens he'll finally see—"

"—that this is reality and we aren't comic book characters," Bruce filled in the blanks again as if he could read her mind. "It's a genius plan," he admitted with a slight twitch of the muscle in his jaw as he took a drink of his tea. "Maybe you can get him to see the truth without hurting him." He sighed. "Okay," he agreed.

"You'll do it?" Daisy asked with a smile. He nodded. "Alright then. I was thinking we can all meet there tomorrow evening. That way Peter can see for himself that we're not lying to him about nothing happening."

"You know, in a sad way," Bruce said after a moment's lull in the conversation, "this will probably be one of my better dates."

Daisy laughed.

~

Daisy and Peter sat off to the side of the room as Bruce sat down on the edge of the patient's bed. He gave Daisy a quick look that she understood to mean, 'This is crazy, but here goes nothing.'

"It's a good thing I'm a teacher," Bruce said first. "I'm used to reading to kids and embellishing details."

Daisy snorted. He took a breath then and began. He started by describing the image in the first panel on the page he was on.

"Tony taps at his arc reactor. 'This little circle of light? Not just armor. It's part of me now. A terrible privilege.' Bruce eyes him skeptically. Then he says, 'But you can control it.' 'Because I learned how—' 'It's different.'"

Bruce paused his back and forth reading of the dialogue and Daisy had to admit he was rather good at inflecting his voice a little differently for Tony's speech bubbles; she also noticed that he chose to use his own voice for the Bruce in the comics.

"Tony moves his hand across the screen between them. Bruce looks upset, but doesn't say anything. Tony says, 'Look. I read all about your accident. That much gamma should have killed you.' In the next panel, Bruce looks down with an uncertain expression. 'So you're saying the Other Guy saved my life? That's nice. It's a nice sentiment. Saved it for what?'" Bruce paused and studied the page long and hard as if contemplating it. "The two men's eyes seem to lock on one another's," he described slowly. "Who knows how long they stay this way before Tony says, 'I guess we'll find out.' He turns his back and Bruce watches him. 'You may not like that,' Bruce says. He then hangs his head as Tony replies, 'And you just might.'"

After that Bruce seemed to find a natural groove, vividly describing the images and, as he'd implied at the start, embellishing the simple dialogue with explanations of how the characters might be feeling based on the context. It was so enthralling that Daisy had to admit even she was taken by the story of it all. It was like she had never read any of the comics before and this was her first time hearing the arc of the two heroes. It was like, in some strange way, Bruce really _was_ Dr. Banner and telling the story from having lived it.

"'Why, Tony? Why did you follow me?' Bruce asks as Tony approaches him in the crowded market. 'You know why I left. It was the only way.' Tony's face is earnest and his gauntleted hands come to rest on Bruce's arms. 'Then you already know why I followed you,' Tony answers. Bruce's expression is one of surprise and confusion and hope all at once. 'It was the only way,' Tony whispers, leaning his head down. Bruce cranes his neck and starts to close his eyes, lost to the feelings he's been running from, as Tony gently cups his cheek—"

Bruce gasped and flinched as the comatose man's arm suddenly moved, his hand landing on the teacher's. Daisy's reaction was similar as her eyes widened in slight horror. Beside her, Peter's mouth was opened wide in delight.

"Oh my god," Bruce muttered and then quickly stood up from the bed and backed away. He looked at her with wide eyes. "Oh my god," he repeated.

"He's waking up!" Peter cheered.

Daisy looked at the man and then at monitor. "We need to get the doctor," she finally said, as level headed as she could manage. Bruce nodded and quickly left to do that.

"See, I told you!" Peter wasted no time in saying as he turned to look at her. "Dr. Banner read the stories of how they met and fell for each other and now Stark is waking up. I knew he would respond."

Daisy willed herself to be calm. "Oh, kid. Kid, kid," she said, not sounding calm at all. "We don't know that's what it was." But she had to admit even she thought it was the toughest coincidence yet to explain. Maybe it was because Bruce was just warm and reassuring to the point that it even worked on coma patients.

"He touched my hand," Bruce explained as he returned with the doctor on his heels. "He's waking up, Dr. Cho."

The woman quickly began checking the patient's vitals, but then turned to them in confusion. "No change," she said.

"That's impossible," Daisy countered. "We all saw it happen."

"He's not waking up," Dr. Cho said apologetically. "Maybe there was a small fluctuation that caused a reflex," she suggested. "Fluctuations happen, but don't always lead to a change in the comatose state."

"He's waking up," Peter insisted. "I know he is."

Daisy immediately grabbed Peter's arm and pulled him back. "Peter, I want you to wait for me in my van. I'll settle things with the doctor."

"Come on, Peter," Bruce said, ushering the boy out of the room though not without one last furrowed glanced at the man in the hospital bed.

"Look, Dr. Cho," Daisy started once she was alone with the doctor, "do you think maybe you could just keep an eye on him for us and then give Mr. Banner a call if there _is_ any change? Peter's gotten really attached to the idea of his waking up. I know it's unorthodox, but it would mean a lot to him if he knew Mr. Doe here was okay. Again, only if what we experienced does end up preceding a change." She gave the woman a pleading look.

"I guess I can," Dr. Cho conceded.

~

"Daisy?"

Daisy hugged her arms a little. "Sorry to bother you so late." She swallowed her nerves and asked, "Is that spare room still available?"

He nodded and gave her a thin smile that eased her worries and momentarily settled her confusion. He held open the door wider and gestured for her to enter. She returned the smile tentatively before giving in and entering the apartment.

~

Bruce stared long and hard at the equation that Tony had come up with. They were creating secret messages with them like an elaborate game of hangman for nerds. Every now and then he glanced up at the recovering man to see him looking positively impish. Whatever it was must be—

"Oh no," he mumbled, hanging his head and giving it a mortified shake. "You wasted such a difficult equation on my name?" He looked back up at the smirking man with an amusedly incredulous expression.

"Wasted? Not wasted at all," Tony said with a broad smile. "And that was the point. You weren't expecting your name so you were complicating it weren't you?"

"Oh, so you're a genius and good at the art of subterfuge too?" Bruce asked with a raised brow as he completed the equation.

"Why not?" Tony shrugged, still smiling. "Not sure who or what I am except smart so yours is as good a working theory as any."

Bruce's mouth became a firm line when he saw the way Tony's smile tightened slightly. "The memories will probably come back. You just have to give them time."

"Can't say I have much sense of time anymore." Tony's smile fell and cast his eyes down. "Feels like I've been asleep for years. Years and years until…"

He looked up then and met Bruce's gaze with eyes intent on searching him. "My turn," Bruce forced himself to say.

Tony was engaged after all. He started to write out a new equation when there was an interruption from the door behind him.

"Oh, what are you playing?"

Bruce turned his head quickly to see said fiancé looking at them with a genuine smile.

~

"I'm a horrible person," Bruce said to her as they ate dinner. "I… I must be the worst person in the whole world."

Daisy looked at the man dubiously. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure I've met enough assholes to know that's not even close to being true," she said.

"Okay, maybe not in the whole world," Bruce backtracked. "But…" He sighed and looked down at his plate as he picked at it with his fork. "He's engaged. And she's so nice. And he's…" Bruce shook his head. "He's so perfect. I-I don't even know if he's into guys so I just… and he's engaged. And she's so nice," he repeated.

Daisy listened sympathetically. "Don't do this to yourself, Bruce. It isn't worth it. I know he seems perfect, but just don't even go there."

~

"Actually…" Tony paused beside him causing Bruce to stop mid step. He turned to look at the other man curiously. "One thing does feel real. You."

"What?" Bruce blinked several times and took a small step back on his heels. "Me?"

"I, I can't explain it. It's crazy. I get that. But you're the only thing that feels right. The only thing that feels right about any of this." Tony looked at him so earnestly, with that brilliant smile of his, and Bruce's breath hitch.

"Tony…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay that's all for now. Hopefully I'll manage to post something to my other stories in the near future.


End file.
